Friend or Foe
by Bratanimus
Summary: 6th year Remus searches for Greyback. RemusLily romance. 'For I am bound with fleshly bands ... Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope ... I strain my heart, I stretch my hands ... And catch at hope.' Christina Rossetti, De Profundis
1. Apologies

Remus Lupin made his way toward the front of the Hogwarts Express, nervously fingering the badge pinned to his sixth year Prefect's robes. He had just finished patrolling the cars, answering questions from first years returning from Christmas holiday and breaking up a scuffle between a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. Now he would locate a car for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts, and there was one group of boys that he sought. He figured he might as well find Peter, James, and Sirius now, rather than wait until he saw them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Remus hadn't heard from his friends over the Christmas holiday, which was surprising in itself, since Sirius was now staying with the Potters. But it was particularly odd given the horrifying prank Sirius had attempted in December, just before school let out. Severus Snape had been lured to the Whomping Willow by Sirius, and he could have been bitten or killed if James had not intervened in time. Remus, who could remember nothing of the incident, was nevertheless tormented by it; during the last few weeks he had had recurrent nightmares of himself as a werewolf attacking the defenseless Severus.

Remus had been frankly appalled that Dumbledore had not punished anyone for the prank. He had fully expected to be expelled, but the headmaster had reminded Remus that it had not been his fault. James and Sirius were not punished, either, which made Remus's cheeks burn hotly whenever he thought of it. Dumbledore had said that the "chafing of their own consciences" would be punishment enough; but Remus knew that the headmaster wanted to protect him from parents who, in hearing about the offense, might have learned that there was a werewolf at Hogwarts. Many parents would have removed their children from the school, and certainly all would have called for Remus's expulsion.

As he passed a car full of Slytherins, he spotted Severus in a corner, not speaking to anyone, his hooked nose buried in a book. Remus's heart lurched and he continued walking toward the front of the train. Dumbledore had sworn all involved, including Severus, to silence; but Severus had refused to hear any of Remus's apologies last month, which only made his conscience ache all the more. Remus cursed and continued trudging along the aisle, his steps heavy and effortful. It was only two days since his last transformation; his skin still felt clammy and his body ached.

Eventually he found James, Sirius, and Peter sitting in uncharacteristic silence in a car near the front of the train. Remus slid open the door and removed his Prefect's robes, suddenly feeling a bit warm. Three pairs of eyes followed him as he stashed the robe above James's trunk, shut the door, and flopped down next to Peter. Across from him, James glanced at Sirius, then turned to stare at the passing scenery. Sirius lowered his head to stare at the fingers clasped in his lap, thumbs tapping together. Peter looked nervously from Remus to the others and back again. There was a full minute of silence as Remus waited for someone to speak. At last, Peter reached across to a paper sack that was sitting next to James. He rummaged though it and withdrew a wrapped sweet.

"Chocolate frog?" Peter offered to no one in particular. When there was no response, Peter cleared his throat, unwrapped the frog, and bit off the protesting head himself. He turned to gaze out the window as he chewed noisily with his mouth open.

Remus watched his friends squirm for a moment or two, then sighed and looked away. His immediate anger at them had worn off since last month; but, even so, a line had been crossed and he couldn't forget what Sirius had tried to do. He was filled with a strange, sickening sensation: he didn't know if things would ever be the same with his friends. He frowned and tried to busy himself with watching other students walking past the cabin door. Never before had such familiar sights seemed so foreign to him.

Finally, Sirius coughed, an abrupt bark that caused everyone in the car to jump. Peter stopped mid-chew and watched his friends, who were now staring at each other again.

"Erm," said Sirius, eyes still lowered.

Remus, remaining silent, watched Sirius carefully pick some lint off his jeans. James crossed his legs and stared out the window again, chewing on his lower lip. Remus could see the trees flitting by in the reflection of his glasses.

"Remus, I – I want to apologize to you," Sirius said quietly, still not meeting his friend's eyes. "What I did was … was irresponsible and wrong."

Remus said nothing.

"And … and I want you to know that I realize what could have happened. What you could have done to him."

Sirius finally met his friend's eyes and they watched each other cautiously for a while, neither one speaking. James turned to look at his friends. Sirius was not often one for apologizing; but he now held Remus's gaze, allowing himself to be scrutinized. Remus studied Sirius's dark grey eyes carefully and said, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, too, mate," James added softly. "I could have let it happen. Almost did. I was an idiot."

"Yeah, you were," Remus agreed.

James's eyes darted toward Sirius, then he said, "We've decided to leave Snivellus alone from now on."

"Unless he starts something with us – " Sirius clarified, glowering at the floor.

"Which is doubtful," James cut in.

The two were silent once more. Remus felt the tightness inside his chest ease a little. He reached across to the bag next to James and took a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Popping two into his mouth, he tasted the surprisingly pleasant combination of lemon and butterbeer.

"I'm sorry we didn't write you, or invite you for Christmas," James went on, taking a cauldron cake for himself. Remus hadn't wanted to ask about their omission, but he was glad when James brought it up.

"We each got an owl from Dumbledore two days after arriving home," Sirius said. "He, er, strongly suggested we volunteer some of our time over the holidays at St. Mungo's Hospital. He said he'd come by to help us."

"Why?" Remus asked, confused.

"He thought it would do us some good." Sirius paused and gruffly cleared his throat. Then, quietly, he added, "Two people were bitten by werewolves last month."

Remus was motionless. That brought last year's total to fourteen victims that he knew of. Registered werewolves, and the people who lived near them, were usually very careful; historically, in the last twenty years, there hadn't been more than four or five new victims per year in all of England. What was happening?

"Do you remember Tristan Kimball?" James asked. "He was a Beater. He graduated four years ahead of us."

"Not him?" Remus said, swallowing. Tristan was a tall, athletic fellow who always had a toothy smile and a kind word for everyone. In fact, he had even tried to help train Remus as a Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts, until finally they both had to admit that Remus's left shoulder was just too weak for that kind of broom flying.

"Yeah," Sirius muttered darkly. "He'd been working as a Healer in St. Mungo's. Everybody there is devastated, to say the least. He was walking home after a late shift last month when he was attacked in an alley."

"In London?" Remus gasped incredulously. Usually attacks happened in more secluded areas; and often the victims were killed, not merely bitten. The boys were silent for several moments.

"There was a little girl, too," James said after a moment, so quietly Remus almost didn't hear him. "Araminta Drury. She's eight. I spent some time with her, and her family – " James's voice caught and he suddenly stopped speaking, staring rigidly out the window again.

Remus felt as if someone had punched him in the throat. He leaned forward onto his elbows, glaring at the floor, blinking hard.

"Why so many?" Peter suddenly piped up. "What's going on?" His small eyes darted from one friend to another.

"I have a feeling I know what's happening," James said hoarsely.

"Voldemort," Remus spat.


	2. A Visit with the Headmaster

"Exploding Bon-Bon," Remus announced outside Dumbledore's office door the following afternoon. The door swung wide and he entered, ascending the revolving stone steps to the headmaster's office.

Professor Dumbledore would be expecting him, as usual, for their first-of-term chat. Since Remus had what Madam Pomfrey characterized as a "frequently recurring debilitating condition," the school nurse had suggested (and Dumbledore had agreed) that the headmaster and Remus should meet at least twice per term to make certain his mental and emotional health were stable. If Remus or Dumbledore felt that more frequent chats were needed, they could be arranged. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey would continue to look after Remus's physical health as necessary. Remus thought he might be glad to talk with Dumbledore some more about what had happened at the Whomping Willow. However, the headmaster was nowhere to be found when Remus stepped away from the stairs into the room.

The Sorting Hat sat on its stool next to Dumbledore's desk. Remus recalled his terror when his turn came at the first-year Sorting. He had been convinced that the omniscient hat, if no one else, would kick him out of school entirely, in front of everyone in the Great Hall. But no, the hat had quickly shouted "Gryffindor!" over the roar of Remus's thoughts, and he had shuffled in a daze toward his new friend Sirius Black, already seated proudly at the Gryffindor table and clapping for Remus. The knowledge that he was here for good had dimly sunk into his consciousness as a smile slowly crept across his face.

As he approached the desk, he heard a small chirrup from the bird situated on the golden perch next to it. The phoenix, Fawkes, was a permanent fixture in Dumbledore's office; and he eyed Remus curiously, as he always did whenever the boy entered the headmaster's quarters. Remus came closer, and the phoenix raised one clawed foot toward him. Remus wasn't certain how to respond to this, but nevertheless he raised his own hand in return toward Fawkes. The phoenix lowered his head and closed his eyes. Remus knitted his brow quizzically as the bird emitted something like a purr from his throat. Sensing that this was an invitation to scratch him, Remus buried his fingers in the thick ruff of feathers on the bird's neck. He scratched and petted the phoenix for a few moments, speaking softly to him, until Fawkes ruffled himself as if to indicate the petting was now over. Several fiery-colored feathers floated through the air, landing on the perch and the floor. Fawkes silently waddled a few paces toward the right on his perch and settled there, still gazing at Remus.

Remus now sat quietly in the upholstered chair across from Dumbledore's desk and tried not to peer too closely at all the gadgets sitting on tables and shelves. He longed to pick them up and examine them, but that would never do. He held his book bag in his lap and gazed around the room. The portraits of the former headmasters scattered along the walls eyeballed Remus without any apparent shame. Some even muttered amongst themselves, seemingly unaware that he could hear them perfectly.

"He looks well," one whispered from the wall behind Remus.

"Surprisingly well, indeed," replied another on Remus's left. "Especially considering what his so-called friends put him through last month. That Sirius Black is a loose cannon, I've always said."

"Don't Lupin's parents have anything to say about the company he keeps?"

"Do werewolves _have_ parents?" one particularly cracked and yellowing portrait rasped.

"Of course they do, you silly old man," a severe-looking witch retorted.

"Then why don't they keep him at home?"

"What has the boy done wrong?" she countered.

The sneering voice of Phineas Nigellus cut in, and Remus cut his eyes toward the imposing portrait. "My dunce of a great-great grandson didn't want his parents' opinion of _his_ friends, either. In my estimation, this half-breed and Sirius deserve each other, and may they rip each other to shreds."

Remus, horrified by the former headmaster's vicious words, spoke up at last. "I can hear you all, you know. I'm sitting right here."

The portraits fell silent and merely stared at him.

"Hello, Remus." From the stairwell behind him, Professor Dumbledore's voice startled Remus and he stood up quickly. "Please, sit. My apologies for my tardiness."

"Not at all, professor," Remus smiled, taking his seat again.

"How was your holiday?" Dumbledore crossed the room, planted himself behind his desk and laced his fingers together, leaning back in his chair.

"Not bad," Remus replied, suddenly not wanting to go into the nightmares that had plagued his sleep. "I was busy."

Dumbledore regarded Remus thoughtfully for a moment. "I thought you might be. Let us see what has absorbed your time these past weeks."

Remus had long ago stopped being surprised when Dumbledore seemed to know what Remus was about to tell him. He opened his book bag and removed a piece of parchment. Dumbledore's eyes widened and he leaned forward.

"My granddad – my father's father – was a cartographer. Still is, from time to time," Remus began, unfolding the thick paper as he spoke.

"Your grandfather wouldn't be Jonathan Lupin, would he?" the headmaster asked, his face crinkling into a smile.

Remus looked up from the parchment. "You've heard of him?"

"The finest wizard's mapmaker in three centuries," Dumbledore declared simply. "Others have aspired to reach his scope and creativity, but none have achieved them. His maps are relatively few in number, but detailed beyond imagination and never obsolete."

Remus flushed and smiled. Within the small world of his childhood, Remus had always admired his granddad; but to hear Dumbledore praise him so frankly sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. Remus's parents had chosen his middle name, John, in honor of Jonathan Lupin; and even today he felt a sense of pride and belonging through that connection.

"Well, this is – _will_ be, that is – a map. Of Hogwarts and the grounds." Remus stood and laid the blank parchment onto the desk between them. "Granddad helped me start it, but there's one more thing I have to do to finish it."

Dumbledore stood and gently touched it with one wrinkled hand. A faint but detailed skeleton outline of the school briefly appeared, spreading like blue veins under pale skin. When he removed his fingers, the lines quickly faded. "Ahh …" he sighed approvingly. "You are using one of your grandfather's spells to complete it?"

"I figured it would be nice to see where the students are before I go into the Whomping Willow. Now that Severus knows –" Remus stopped himself and glanced at Dumbledore.

"You're worried about other students finding out?"

Remus nodded, lowering his eyes to the parchment again.

"I can assure you that your secret is safe with Severus while you are a student here," Dumbledore promised. "But I do think the map is an excellent idea, just in case something were to go awry in future. Besides which, it may prove to be a good exercise for you, Remus. You seem to have inherited Jonathan Lupin's talents."

Remus grinned, embarrassed and pleased by the compliment. He looked at Dumbledore. "Then I have your permission to finish it?"

"By all means. I'd very much like to see it when it is complete." The headmaster's clear blue eyes twinkled. "I'm certain that you and your friends would never use it for mischief?"

Remus felt his cheeks redden. "Sir, I can promise you I'll try –"

"– to keep them in line, yes, yes," Dumbledore chuckled. "Just do your best. You're more of a leader than you realize, you know."

Remus squirmed under the gaze of the professor and busied his hands with refolding the parchment. He placed it back into his book bag.

"You will be tutoring some of the younger students again this term, I presume?" Dumbledore continued, seating himself once more.

"Yes, sir," Remus replied quickly, glad for the change of topic.

"Still for no fee?"

"Well, like I've said, we're both getting something out of it. The students get lessons, and I get practice teaching."

"They are fortunate to have your services," Dumbledore smiled. "Are you still planning a career as a teacher after you finish at Hogwarts?"

"Well … " Remus paused as he sat again. He'd always seen himself as a teacher, but now he wasn't so sure. The news in the _Daily Prophet_ was grimmer each day as Voldemort's disciples gained footholds in wizarding households and organizations everywhere. Nearly all of his friends personally knew of someone being placed under the Imperius curse and made to do the dark bidding of the Death Eaters. Remus swallowed. "I'm thinking more and more that we're going to need a lot of Aurors."

"A wise assessment," Dumbledore agreed. "And you'd make a fine Auror, I've no doubt. But what about teaching?"

"I suppose that could wait. I'm not even certain anyone would hire me as a teacher these days." _But what makes you think anyone would want you as an Auror?_ he couldn't help thinking. "I can't keep my condition a secret forever."

"True, you cannot," Dumbledore agreed, a note of sadness in his voice. "But for now, we shall do our best."

Remus nodded.

"Professor McGonagall would be happy to speak with you about the requirements for becoming an Auror. You have all the prerequisite O.W.L.s for it – Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms – although your Potions performance in class has been a bit spotty this year, I'm told."

"Yes, sir," Remus agreed, rustling uncomfortably under Dumbledore's benign scrutiny. "I'll work on that."

"Very good," Dumbledore said. He paused, pressing the pads of his fingers together, his eyes narrowing. He seemed about to speak, but he remained silent for a long moment. Before Remus knew it, he was asking the question that had been niggling his mind all Christmas holiday.

"Sir … why do you think he – Sirius – did it?" Remus felt ashamed asking it, as if he were betraying his friend. James and Sirius hated Severus Snape, suspected him of fraternizing with Death Eaters; but why on earth would Sirius lure him to certain doom in the form of death or a werewolf bite? Why would Sirius use Remus in such a horrific way? Although Remus hated asking Dumbledore, he wouldn't allow himself to lower his gaze from the headmaster's.

Dumbledore watched Remus intently. "I asked Sirius this question myself, but he preferred not to share the answer with me." He gazed at Remus for a few seconds longer, then he stood, stroking his long, white beard. "But let us never forget that when wrathful words arise, a closed mouth can be soothing."

_Or_ _as Granddad says, _Remus thought, _it's often a man's mouth broke his nose._


	3. The Marauder's Map

Near midnight the next evening, Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter huffed and puffed, with broomsticks in tow, up the steep spiral stairs to the Astronomy Tower. They huddled as closely as they could under James's invisibility cloak, but this had become more difficult the past couple of years; Peter was still rather diminutive, but James, Remus, and Sirius had grown much taller. Remus was certain that their feet must be showing at the bottom, but there was nothing to be done about it. Partial invisibility was better than none.

Remus had told his friends about the map over dinner the previous night. All had agreed that a map would be a good tool to make sure there were no students about when Remus headed alone toward the Whomping Willow, or when, together as werewolf and Animagi, they left the castle grounds to go into Hogsmeade. James and Sirius could envision many other uses for the map, but Remus ignored those possibilities for now. He had to complete the map, and he needed their help to do it.

When they reached the door to the tower, James opened it cautiously and peered out while the others remained motionless behind him.

"All clear," he said. James removed the cloak, stuffing it into a large pocket inside his robes as the four friends stepped onto the ramparts. They were immediately buffeted by harsh winds.

Remus had chosen to use the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower at Hogwarts, so that there would be little chance of being seen while they finished the map. He glanced around, confident that they were alone. Stars twinkled sharply as ominous clouds swept briskly across the sky. Remus pulled the blank parchment from his back pocket and spread it onto the stones at their feet; then he drew his wand and muttered a gravity charm to keep the map from blowing away. Remus stood and looked at his friends. The gale was so powerful that, in order to keep his balance, his toes had to grip the ground through his shoes. The strong wind whipped his friends' dark cloaks about them, giving them the appearance of motion, although they stood quite still, feet planted firmly apart to maintain stability. Remus's eyes stung in the cold air, and he wished he'd worn a hat; his ears would be frozen by the time they were done. At least he had a scarf on.

"Well, let's do it," Sirius half-yelled over the din of the bitter wind.

"All right," Remus shouted. "I'll stand here, on the east side of the map."

Standing beside the blank parchment, he felt a thrill surge through him, electrifying his fingertips and toes. Would he be able to complete this map? Jonathan Lupin had modified and mastered the ancient spell Remus was about to utter during one of his mapmaking trips years ago, learning the significance of the directions from a very old wizard (who called himself a shaman) in North America. East represented the source of light; as the mapmaker – the illuminator, so to speak – Remus had to stand in this spot. His friends would then pick from the other positions. South represented death and the spirit path; west, darkness and thunderbirds; and north, the path of forefathers. Remus wasn't entirely sure what all this meant, but his grandfather had told him it had to do with balance and completion. Jonathan Lupin had modified the spell somewhat so that people, not just animals, would be tracked; and he had changed the incantation so that every square inch of land and structure would be represented, even on a roughly-sketched map.

"Everyone, pick a direction," Remus ordered.

James quickly approached Remus's right, north of the map. Sirius, choosing the south, stood at Remus's left. Peter faced Remus, taking his place in the west.

"Now, rest the end of your broom on the edge of the map, like so." Remus positioned the bristles of his broom on his side of the map. Peter placed his broom down next, then Sirius, and James last. The invisible lines drawn on the map pulsed faint blue briefly when each broomstick touched it, then disappeared.

"After I cast the spell, we'll all mount our brooms, turn away from each other, and fly in opposite directions. I'll go east, James will go north, Sirius south, and Peter, you'll go west. I recommend flying high, if you can, so you won't be spotted from the ground."

"How will we know when to turn around and come back?" Peter asked nervously.

"Your broom will know when it reaches the end of the mapped territory," Remus explained. "We'll meet back here."

The others nodded their understanding. Remus closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. This spell, one of his grandfather's unique specialties, was one he had never performed before; and he worried that it wouldn't work, especially in this wind. At home over Christmas, Jonathan Lupin had only been able to describe the spell to him; the map had to be at Hogwarts physically in order for it to take effect.

Remus opened his eyes and saw his friends watching him confidently, gripping their brooms, waiting for his word. He drew a deep breath and pointed his wand at the center of the map.

"Cardinalis Trawlumnus!" he shouted over the wind.

The lines on the map glowed bright blue, then red, pulsating as if they were blood vessels about to burst. Red light seemed to travel into the brooms from the ends of the bristles toward the handles. Remus felt his broomstick vibrating hotly under his hand, so he quickly pocketed his wand.

"Off we go!" he ordered.

And without looking back, Remus mounted his broom and kicked off into the cold, dark sky. At once, the wind seemed to stop and the air seemed warmer. He flew straighter and more smoothly than he ever had before; it was as if the broom were in control … or, rather, as if some large, unseen hand were reeling him in on a fishing line. Looking down over the grounds, Remus watched the castle and the Forbidden Forest slip past him. He saw the wind blowing the trees below as hard as ever, but somehow no wind buffeted his broomstick. He glanced behind him and saw what looked like a huge fisherman's net attached to his broom and to the brooms of his three friends, who were flying away from him in the other cardinal directions. The net, gleaming opalescent in the night, could have been made of spider webs or of tiny filaments of light; it was hard to say. As they flew, the insubstantial net attached to the four broomsticks grew larger and larger, covering the entire castle and grounds.

Suddenly, somewhere over the Forbidden Forest, Remus's broom stopped and hovered. He turned and watched as the net slowly wafted down, down, like a street magician's handkerchief, over the forest, the grounds, the towers and courtyards, the front steps, the Great Hall, the classrooms, the greenhouses, Hagrid's hut, the Whomping Willow, the Quidditch Pitch, the lake, the road to Hogsmeade. Somehow Remus knew that microscopic bits of net would float into the school through windows, plumbing, chimneys, and water spouts. It would drift into keyholes and drawers and desks, up and down shifting steps, into secret passages, within trunks and cupboards, through bed curtains, beneath sheets and pajamas. It would locate every room and passageway that Remus and his grandfather had not charted, and those locations would appear on the map. Outside, the net would seep into tree trunks and roots, onto dead flowers, under moss and rock, inside caves and crevasses and decaying logs, into water and air and earth. Within and on all of these things the gossamer substance would remain forever, as long as the map existed. Remus, blinking hard, found himself strangely moved by the gentle power of this spell.

Unexpectedly, the wind picked up again and Remus nearly fell off his broom. _It's done_, Remus thought. He struggled to keep his broom from capsizing as he flew into the wind back to the Astronomy Tower.

His friends were there before he arrived, staring at the map with hands on knees, brooms discarded. Remus landed awkwardly on the stones and knelt next to James. The map was in full relief now, as if it were etched in black ink, detailed and complete.

"Blimey," James muttered, his mouth hanging open, dark hair whipping into his eyes.

As Remus watched the map, tiny figures and names popped up. He could see that Dumbledore was in his office, their dorm mates were in the Gryffindor boys' tower, the school caretaker Argus Filch was patrolling the sixth floor hallways, Hagrid was strolling through the Forbidden Forest. He wondered about Severus Snape. It was as if changing his thought allowed a shift in focus, and suddenly the Slytherin Common Room came into view. There was Snape, probably buried in a book, as usual. He thought of Lily Evans and saw a miniature figure along with her name appear, bringing the Gryffindor girls' tower into focus. Remus thought of the Astronomy Tower, and quickly the map revealed four miniscule figures clustered together and their names – Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius began to chuckle. His chuckle became a guffaw, which turned into a deep belly laugh. James started laughing with him, and soon Peter began to snicker, his round shoulders shaking with glee. Remus looked at his friends and smiled. They'd done it! He thought he would burst with pride.

"Well done, mates," he grinned.

"Well done? You mean _brilliant_!" James screamed over the noise of the wind. He clapped Remus on the back and laughed harder. "You're bloody brilliant, Moony!"

Sirius let out a hoot and Peter danced a little jig. Finally laughter bubbled up in Remus and he whooped and hollered with Sirius. James hooked Peter's elbow and they circled each other, hopping around like crazed folk dancers. The wind was so fierce that no one could have heard them unless they were downwind, so the boys reveled in their success for several minutes, shrieking and jumping up and down and slapping each other's backs.

At last, out of breath, tears of mirth streaming down his face, Remus leaned over the map again. His stomach nearly leapt out of his mouth at what he saw there: Filch was approaching the door to the Astronomy Tower. He was steps away.

"Quick, Filch is opening the door! The cloak!"

James responded in a flash and threw the invisibility cloak over them as the door swung wide. They had no choice but to crouch in the center of the parapet, on top of the map, holding the billowing cloak down with their feet.

Filch strode onto the ramparts as his cat, Mrs. Jellicorse, padded past him. She was an ancient, tattered tabby who may or may not have seen better days. Remus was frankly surprised she was still alive. But she stopped and smelled the air just feet from where the four boys sat. Although his heart still hammered, Remus silently thanked the wind for providing a bit of distraction to the animal.

"What is it, my pet? Did you hear something, too?" Filch asked in a strangely honeyed voice. Remus reflected that it was almost worse to hear this sweetness than the caretaker's usual acidic tone. He felt sorry for whichever lady Mrs. Jellicorse had been named after. Filch stood still for several minutes, almost as if he, too, were sniffing the air for wayward teenagers. Remus felt horribly exposed crouching with his friends in the middle of the parapet. Finally Filch looked down at his cat once more. "Must have been the wind. Come on, then, love."

And Filch clumped back into the stairwell, pulling the door behind him as his lamp-like eyes made a final sweep of the area before shutting the door with a clang.

"Lumos," Remus whispered, and the tip of his wand glowed with light. He looked down at the map between his feet and saw Filch trudging back down the spiral staircase. The boys stepped off the cloak and James pocketed it again. Circling the map, they waited until Filch was back on the fourth floor before speaking again.

"May I make a suggestion?" James said finally.

"Be my guest," Remus replied.

"Filch could have seen this map. We need to protect it from prying eyes."

"A password," Sirius offered, completing James's thought, as he so often seemed to do.

"It needs to be more than a password," Remus added. "Someone could go through a dictionary and eventually figure it out."

"Something that means something to us, but not to anyone else," James mused, chewing on his lip.

"Cockroach cluster!" Peter proposed.

"Lame," James said dismissively. "This is an important document. We don't want to protect it with a candy name."

Remus pointed out that they really needed two passwords – one to make the map appear on the parchment, and one to make it disappear again.

Sirius's eyes glittered impishly. "How about, _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_?"

James grinned. "I like it."

Remus considered for a moment. "Yes, that's good. Hard to figure out. That'll make the map appear. And to close it should be something quick and short, in case we're surprised again."

"_Mischief managed_," James offered.

Remus smiled. "Simple and to the point."

They had all learned charms to protect sensitive documents and books in their classes, so James quickly applied the charms and the passwords to the map. While James worked, Remus skirted the edges of the ramparts. The grounds below looked eerie in the moonlight. The bushes and trees waved in the blustery wind, as if the earth itself were alive and trying to get Remus's attention by waving a multitude of craggy appendages at him.

When Remus turned back to his friends, he saw Sirius and James both crouched over the map, with Peter peering over their shoulders.

"We've given it a title," James said proudly.

"And another protective device," Sirius added.

"Well, I don't know that I'd call it protective –" James began.

"Well, it's defending itself!" Sirius argued.

"What the hell did you two do while my back was turned?" Remus glared. "You didn't mess it up, did you?"

"No, no, I was right here," Peter said quickly. "It's fine."

"Try it." James held out the parchment, now innocently blank again.

Remus took it and pointed his wand at it. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

At once the map burst into life. On it, James had added the words

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDERS MAP_

Remus smiled. "You've forgot the apostrophe."

"Oh, piss off," James muttered. And he corrected it with a flick of his wand to say _THE MARAUDER'S MAP_. Remus hadn't the heart to tell him he'd put the apostrophe in the wrong place.

Instead Remus nodded, "No, I like it, good work. Nice title. Okay. _Mischief managed_." And the map and tiny figures and names disappeared, leaving only the parchment once more. "Brilliant."

Peter took the map from Remus. "Let's try the thing that Sirius put in." Peter pointed his wand at the map. "_Reveal your secret_."

Several lines of writing appeared on the page, seeping across like blood.

_Mister Moony regrets to inform Mister Pettigrew that he's gone and forgotten the password._

_Mister Prongs concurs and would like to add that Mister Pettigrew needs to pay better attention if he wishes to take trips with Messrs. Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs in future._

_Mister Padfoot must remind Mister Pettigrew that only a silly git would think of a password like "cockroach cluster."_

_Mister Wormtail sadly agrees that Mister Pettigrew could take a lesson in stylish password writing from Messrs. Prongs and Padfoot._

As they watched, the writing slowly faded away. Remus had to admit that the insult charm added a certain panache to the map, and he smiled.

"Hey, I insulted myself!" Peter whined.

"I told you you would," Sirius said flatly.


	4. The Clucking Jinx

By the end of his first two weeks back at Hogwarts, Remus was exhausted. He had shown the Marauder's Map to Dumbledore, who praised the blushing Remus for the map's level of detail and its ability to look into every nook and cranny of the castle. Remus hadn't yet had time, however, to see Professor McGonagall about the requirements for becoming an Auror. Not only had James and Sirius dragged Remus and Peter on several late-night explorations of secret passageways, finding their way into Honeyduke's during one memorable excursion; but Remus had also balanced a heavy class load, taken on two new students for tutoring, and read every recent issue of the _Daily Prophet_ in his spare time.

The paper featured only two small fourth-page write-ups about the recent werewolf attacks James and Sirius had told him about. Remus had located the articles in a December back issue in the Hogwarts library; he had missed the breaking news while he was at home with his family, and he kicked himself now for his laziness. There had been no follow-up on the attacks since the initial reports. Remus knew that it was difficult to be a journalist or an editor in today's climate of fear and mistrust; many newspaper employees had resigned in the past year, and the ones who remained were understandably terrified of being killed or placed under the Imperius curse and forced to write propaganda for Voldemort. The _Prophet_ was probably understaffed. In all likelihood, it was a wonder that stories against Voldemort were printed at all. So Remus was not at all surprised by the lack of follow-through on the werewolf stories.

Now Remus was trying in vain to study for History of Magic, his least favorite class. He slouched on the most comfortable brown velvet couch in the Common Room with his book open on his knees, using his wand to keep his place as he read. Professor Binns's lectures were normally as dry and uninteresting as a rusty cauldron. The most recent lectures, however, concerned the discovery and subsequent hunting of werewolves in early historical records; and Remus had become quite alert. He had to be careful not to ask more than one question per class, so as not to rouse the interest of the other daydreaming and sleeping students. Remus was aware that Professor Binns kept office hours, and he was certain that Binns would be discreet if he approached him with questions; but no one was quite sure where the professor's office was anymore. Perhaps he should ask Dumbledore. In the meantime, he wanted to read ahead in the textbook, as their next class would be the last one covering werewolves in the historical context.

Across the room, Sirius, once again, was up to no good and making a spectacular nuisance of himself; but this was a first-rate joke, even Remus had to admit. It hadn't taken long for James and Sirius to slip back into their prankster antics, and Remus couldn't help but feel a sigh of relief. They seemed to be focusing their tricks on each other for the moment; and, as promised, they were steering clear of Severus, at least for now. Things felt practically normal again. With James and Sirius causing mayhem, Remus could almost forget that a war was brewing, and that more and more wizards were being seduced by the propaganda of the wizard calling himself Voldemort. He could almost forget the horrible prank Sirius had attempted on Severus.

"You are incorrigible," Remus declared from behind his book.

Caught in a fit of laughter, Sirius could barely stand up straight as he teetered perilously atop a chair next to the portrait hole. He was placing a Clucking jinx around the edge of the entrance to Gryffindor tower, which meant that everyone who came in, instead of speaking, would merely cluck like chickens. This would also mean at least a half hour of amusement until Sirius was forced to confess and remedy the problem. Sirius cackled with glee, and Remus smiled to himself again.

"I really should report you, you know," Remus warned.

"You live vicariously through me, remember that. This jinx is good for you," Sirius retorted. Remus shook his head and went back to his book.

Sirius sang a little tune to himself as he climbed down from the wooden chair. The lyrics, Remus thought, sounded vaguely like, "You're so sly, but so am I." Sirius threw himself next to Remus on the couch, causing dust motes to puff into the air and linger in the waning light that fell through the tall windows. Sirius rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then clasped his fingers behind his head and leaned back on the couch until he was nearly horizontal, his ankles crossed on the threadbare rug in front of him. He sighed contentedly. Then he started whistling.

"You know, Sirius," Remus finally burst out, "trying to study next to you is like trying to sneeze with your eyes open."

Sirius gazed at Remus blankly. "Only you would have noticed something like that." He grinned at Remus over the book, using a finger to lower it so that Remus was forced to look at him. "However, I do rely on you for all my tidbits and pieces of trivia," he added.

Sirius flopped back on the couch and went on. "I wonder if there's a spell to enable a person to keep their eyes _open_ when they sneeze? I mean, what if you're in a duel and suddenly you have to sneeze? And that split second gives your opponent just enough advantage to take the match? There must be a way around it – "

"Sirius!" Remus slammed the book shut. "Do you mind?"

"It's Friday night! Why in Merlin's name are you studying?" Sirius demanded. He stared at Remus in silence for a moment, feigning a hurt look. "You wound me," he stated simply.

"Save it for your fan club."

Sirius raised his eyebrows in that special way only he could manage, drawing up the inner portions so that he looked immeasurably sad.

"We are not amused," Remus said flatly.

But Remus's upper lip was beginning to twitch. He buried his nose in the book once more. Finally, at full volume, Sirius began howling like a lost pup. Remus snorted with laughter and punched Sirius in the arm.

"Ow! That hurt!" Sirius croaked, rubbing his upper arm.

"Serves you right. Leave the howling to me, mate," Remus smirked.

At that moment, the portrait swung open and in bounded James, sweaty and dirty from Quidditch practice, along with two other Gryffindor Quidditch players, Aidan McAdams and Loretta Roth.

"Brock!" James grinned. Suddenly his grin faded and he glared at Sirius, who burst into immediate, silent paroxysms of laughter. Remus began to laugh in spite of himself.

"Bock, bock bock bock bock bock BRRRROCK!" James glowered. The other two Quidditch players were now trying to speak, as well, and only added to the general clucking pandemonium. Now Remus was seized up with laughter, as well. He and Sirius were doubled up, silent tears rolling down their faces. Sirius had fallen onto the floor and was holding his stomach.

"BROCK!" James swore, throwing his hands in the air. Sirius, finally having gotten his breath back, shrieked with laughter.

James jumped onto Sirius from above and started pummeling him. Remus was still speechless with laughter and merely watched them scrap through his teary eyes. The other two Quidditch players stood aside and clucked in anger and dismay as they watched James and Sirius rolling on the floor. Then the portrait hole swung open again.

"What in the world is going bock bock brock?" And Lily Evans stepped through the door with another Gryffindor sixth year girl, Olivia Lunford.

James, Sirius, and Remus froze and stared at Lily. Lily stared back at the boys, her green eyes narrowing and darting back and forth between Sirius and James. "Brock brock bock bock?"

Sirius and James pointed at each other. Remus, still holding his book, jumped to his feet as Lily put her hands on her hips, glaring at the guilty-looking pair on the floor. Olivia, wisely, stood silent.

"Here, let me …" Remus drew his wand and muttered a few words to remove the spell from those in the room, at which time the Quidditch players gratefully exited to get ready for dinner. Remus then approached the portrait hole and proceeded to un-jinx the door.

"Thank you, Remus," Lily said, her eyes still on the two boys on the floor. Remus shifted toward her a step and inserted his wand into his book to mark his place.

"Aww, come on, love," Sirius purred in a chocolaty voice, propping himself up on his elbows. "If you'd been here seconds before you would have seen the world's first human-chicken Quidditch player. It was quite amusing. Although I have no idea what he was saying. Can't have been that important …"

At that, James, still seated on Sirius's rear end, cleared his throat in somewhat of a squawk, which made Sirius cackle all over again. "Lily," James declared, swatting at the squirming Sirius, "I agree that this joke was completely uncalled for. May I take you to Zonko's next Saturday to find a suitable repayment for our friend, the prankster?" James ran his hand through his already windblown hair and smiled expectantly. Remus could almost see him trying to will Lily to say yes this time.

"No, James," Lily mumbled as she stalked toward the girls' stairway.

James leapt to his feet and bounded toward the stairs, trying to intercept her. "Leaving so soon? I was wondering if you could help me with Potions …"

"Take a shower," she called over her shoulder, and she was gone.

Olivia turned to Remus and smiled, "Thanks." She followed Lily up the stairs to freshen up for dinner.

For a moment, the three boys stared at the floor. Then Sirius stood up, cracked his knuckles, and said, "Mischief managed. Well, I'm off." He started toward the boys' stairway, but was blocked by James. Sirius shot through the doorway under James's reaching arm, and Remus heard them both pounding up the stone stairs, yelling obscenities at each other.

Remus let his breath out in a long sigh; he hadn't realized he had been holding it. He walked back to the couch, straightened a pillow, and sat back down. He opened the book to the page his wand had marked and stared at it. He stared for a long time. When it finally occurred to him that he was reading the same sentence over and over, he closed the book again and looked out the window. The sun was now almost lost behind the horizon, and other students were pouring into the Common Room from the library and Quidditch practice.

_Mischief managed_, Remus thought wryly.


	5. The Beginning

_It was two weeks before Remus's seventh birthday. He was running by the lake, playing with the metal airplane his Muggle grandmother Margaret had given him as an early birthday gift. He made motor sounds with his lips, imitating the real propeller planes she had shown him today at the small aircraft show in Wales, in the little town his father's parents called home. He bounded over rocks and patches of dead weeds and flowers, the names of which he did not know yet, but which his mother Rowena had said were full of magical properties. He would learn them all one day, she promised._

_Remus's parents and grandparents were within sight, a short distance away on the lake, reclining in wooden chairs behind his grandparents' cottage after dinner, sipping and warming their hands on mugs of his grandfather Jonathan's strong tea in front of the pale blue fire that his father, Owen, had conjured. Remus could see the their figures silhouetted in the golden light of the dining room window as they sat in their winter cloaks and talked in hushed voices about the things adults find interesting. In a few minutes, the family would all have cake; Rowena had said she would call him before they began. _

_The air was cold and still, the sky perfectly clear and pricked with stars. Remus didn't want to think about having to go back home tomorrow. His new airplane gleamed in the bright, early moonlight as he raised it and lowered it, sprinting along the edge of the water, making the sounds of guns and rockets. The imaginary enemy was pursuing his aircraft, but he would prevail. Swooping down behind a bed of rushes, he landed the plan deftly on the ground._

_Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck quite literally stood on end. Remus had never felt this sensation before, although he had read about it happening to characters in stories. He stood up from behind the rushes, rubbing his neck, perplexed. He had the curious feeling of being watched. Looking into the trees, he thought he saw movement. Was it a deer? An owl? _

"_Friend or foe?" he called out._

_His question was met with silence. He stepped through the rushes into the clearing that skirted the thicket of trees. He squinted, trying to see past the darkness into the woods beyond, but the moonlight didn't penetrate far enough. Did he hear a dog panting?_

"_Friend or foe?" he called again, more loudly._

_Nothing. No movement, no sound. Not even the chirping of nighttime crickets. Remus began to feel agitated. It was too quiet, too creepy. He turned his back on the trees and reached through the rushes to pick up his airplane, wanting to be near his parents again._

_Behind him, he distinctly heard a branch crack, then silence. Wheeling around, Remus raised his airplane as if it were a wand, and a blue spark flew from the nose of the airplane and landed on the damp ground. He shouted, "For the last time, friend or foe?"_

_A rush of grey and claws and teeth and blood, and he was on the ground looking up at the full moon. Who was that screaming? Him or his mother?_

"Remus!" an urgent voice whispered. "Wake up, mate! You're dreaming, wake up, wake up!" James had yanked the bed curtains open and was holding Remus's flailing arms. Remus had kicked the bedcovers completely off, and his hair and pajamas were drenched in sweat. Sirius was standing well away from his friend's feet, trying to get closer to help James pin Remus down.

Finally Remus knew where he was, and he immediately stopped thrashing. It was Sunday night, he was in bed at Hogwarts, everything was normal. "I'm fine, I'm fine, let go," he whispered hoarsely. James released his arms as Sirius sat at the foot of the bed. Peter peered over at him from the next fourposter. Remus sat up, still panting, and rested his arms on his knees, hands dangling in front of him. Staring fixedly at his feet, he tried to regulate his breathing and wiped his brow on his sleeve.

"More of the same?" Sirius asked unnecessarily.

Remus nodded curtly, not meeting his friend's eyes, trying to will the other Gryffindor boys to stick their bloody heads back inside their own bloody bed curtains.

As if reading his mind, James strode to the center of the room. "Good evening, gawkers!" he announced sprightly. "What we have here is a young man with a terrible, unrequited crush on Professor Sprout. In no uncertain terms she told him it could never be, and now his dreams are haunted by her callous rejection. If you have a heart at all, let the man alone."

James, quite the athlete and the jokester, was admired by most of the Gryffindor sixth year boys, and several chuckled at his comic rebuking. Remus's nightmares still happened fairly frequently, and James finessed a different story each time, seemingly on the spot. One by one the boys reluctantly closed their bed curtains again, but they watched Remus carefully before they did so. Remus knew that several of the boys in his year thought he was insane, or at least quite weird, and remained wary of him. His recurrent nightmares, coupled with the mysterious scratches and wounds that periodically appeared on his face and body, had earned him the nickname of "Loony" from some of his dorm mates within his first year at Hogwarts. Thankfully, though, James and Sirius wouldn't allow the name to stick; so now the only one who used it to his face was Peeves, the poltergeist, who was always eavesdropping and had seized the nickname with delight, calling him "loony, loopy Lupin." There wasn't much Remus's friends could do about the ghost's harassment, however.

James approached Remus's bed again. "Now, don't you think it's time you let old Sprout go?" he winked.

"But it's such sweet suffering," Remus deadpanned. James and Sirius laughed and went back to their beds.

Remus lay back down and stared at the window for a long while. It was the end of January, almost two weeks before the next full moon, and he was becoming anxious, as usual. He would probably start losing sleep next week, until the transformation was over. Then he would sleep like the dead for three weeks or so, and the cycle would begin again.

He covered his eyes with his arm and tried to think of nothing at all.


	6. Binns Blushes

Remus found a seat near the front of the History of Magic classroom. Professor Binns, a ghost, never came early to class, so there was no point in Remus's arriving early. Today, however, Remus was nervous and hadn't known what to do with himself. He had trudged across the lawn from Herbology and wandered aimlessly through the library, looking up pieces of information for Slughorn's Potions homework. Unable to focus, he finally gave up and wandered to History of Magic. He now opened his book and stared at the pages that most troubled him – in particular, the chapter titled _Remedies: None Known_. The text was dated over thirty years ago, in 1944, which was before werewolves were even required to register themselves. Remus, however, in all his years of searching, couldn't seem to locate much information about research into a cure; in fact, he hadn't located much notable research at all. _What if no one cares?_ The thought had long ago fermented and soured in his mind.

Remus was lost in thought, rubbing the scar on his upper lip between his thumb and forefinger when, behind him, he heard the door creak. He turned around to see Lily entering the classroom, her heavy book bag pinching some of her hair between the strap and her shoulder.

"Brock," she smiled as she headed toward him.

"Oh, erm, b-brock to you, too," Remus stammered. His heart had started to pound. It was very seldom that he found himself alone with Lily, and he usually tried to make certain it didn't happen. He quickly made room on the table for Lily's books and accidentally knocked over his own quill and inkbottle in the process. Thankfully, the cork was still on. He stooped over to pick them up, and when he met her eyes again, she was looking at him curiously. His heart did a somersault. Surely she could hear the pounding in his chest? Or at least see the blood pulsating in his temples? He wanted to Disapparate.

"Remus, are you all right?" Lily asked. She reached out and placed one small, pale hand on his forehead.

All of a sudden, Remus felt that he may indeed have a fever, her hand felt so cold and his skin so hot. It was all he could do not to flinch or pull away. "Yeah, fine. Erm, wh-why do you ask?"

"I thought you looked rather tired last night."

She had looked at him last night? When? Where? He assumed her gaze, as always, would be only on the two who seemed to require the most attention: James and Sirius. Remus noticed that he was holding his breath again, and he forced himself to breathe. "No, no, I'm quite well, thank you."

Lily continued to look deeply into his eyes. Remus tried valiantly to hold her gaze, but quickly found that he had to look elsewhere. He glanced at the blackboard, half hoping that Binns would materialize, half hoping that class would be cancelled. _Fool, there's no chance of that_, he scolded himself.

"But you're pale, Remus. And your skin feels clammy," she said, reaching for his cheek this time.

This time Remus dodged her hand as if it were a hornet, and Lily jumped.

"Oh, er, sorry," Remus said quickly, running a hand through his hair. _No! James does that, stop it! _he screamed at himself. "Sorry, it's just, if I _do_ have a cold, I wouldn't want you to catch it." _Lame, lame, lame_, he thought. "Sorry," he apologized once more.

Lily's brow knitted quizzically. "What are you sorry for?"

"Nothing. Sorry." Lily's eyes widened and a smile played across her mouth. "I m-mean to say …" Remus began. He took a deep breath and sighed. "What I _mean_ to say is, Lily, you make a lovely chicken."

It was a bad joke, but Lily's laughter rang through the silent classroom like church bells on a clear spring afternoon. Remus couldn't help but smile with her, even as his heart pounded harder. Before he knew what he was doing, he had brushed her hair off her shoulder so that he could see her face more easily. Ever so slightly, Lily's smile faded, but her eyes still danced. Remus felt himself blushing and turned away.

SLAM! The door behind them burst open and hit the wall as two Slytherin boys entered the classroom, followed by Severus Snape, who eyed Remus with loathing. Remus nodded a greeting to them, which was unreturned, and went back to his book. From the corner of his eye he saw Severus take his usual spot in the far corner of the classroom. In every class he shared with Severus, Remus found himself worrying that the Slytherin would let it slip that Remus was a werewolf. But, as far as he knew, to Severus's credit, he had kept his lips sealed. Perhaps Severus was afraid of James and Sirius, who shared most of Remus's classes. _Or perhaps he's planning some better revenge_, he couldn't help thinking.

The other two Slytherins sat immediately behind Remus and Lily. Lily opened her book bag and retrieved her parchment and quill; she often attempted to take notes for the first half of class, but Remus knew that she usually fell to daydreaming within forty minutes.

"Oy, Loony," sneered one of the Slytherins, a pasty, thick-necked boy named Angus Adderton. "Keeping Potter's woman warm til he gets here?" Angus snickered obscenely.

Lily and Remus pretended to ignore Angus, which was ludicrous considering how loudly he had spoken. Remus could hear Lily's breath quicken next to him.

The other pale, dark-haired Slytherin, Ciaran Cromwell, snickered. "Yes, Potter's got to have one of his mates keep an eye on her. This little Mudblood's pretty easy to get to know, if you know what I –" But he never finished his sentence, as Remus had leapt to his feet and drawn his wand at the level of Ciaran's chest.

"Care to pay more respect to the lady?" suggested Remus. He felt a sudden, angry flush rising in his cheeks.

Ciaran's eyes narrowed. "If there were one present, I suppose I could consider it. But, Lupin, don't you think it rather unseemly for a Prefect to be drawing his wand on another student? Oh, I forgot – Mudblood is thicker than water. You must defend your own kind – "

The room around him seemed to disappear as rage welled up inside him. Remus inhaled sharply and was on the verge of casting a Horn Tongue hex to shut the Slytherin up when he felt Lily touch his arm.

"Remus, don't," she ordered as she stood next to him. She appraised Ciaran, who was still seated, reclining in his chair in an affected pose of disinterest. "Since you clearly have no idea what you're talking about, I'll spell it out for you: James Potter is merely a friend, nothing more. If, by questioning my chastity, you are in some strange way inquiring about my availability, here is my answer: I would not date you if you were the last man on earth."

_James will be pleased to know he's not last on Lily's list anymore_, Remus thought. Impressed by her composure, as well as her eloquence under pressure, he lowered his wand and watched Ciaran's face. For a split second, the boy seemed at a loss for words.

"Clever little brat," sneered Ciaran, at last.

"Oh, and if you want to flatter me, you'll have to do better than making snide remarks about my parentage. That's yesterday's news." At that, Lily tossed her fiery hair, turned her back on Ciaran, and sat down. The only indication that she was at all affected by this exchange was her shallow breathing and a deep red flush in her cheeks.

Ciaran chuckled derisively, glancing at Angus, but said nothing more. Remus noticed that Severus was watching the scene intently, but he buried his face in his book once more when he realized he had been discovered. Remus pocketed his wand and took his seat again, hardly believing that he had almost hexed someone out of anger. What was wrong with him? He opened his book again.

"Well done," Remus whispered, his eyes on his book.

"Thank you," replied Lily.

Presently, other students began filing into the classroom. Peter, Sirius, and James made their way to the seats on either side of Remus and Lily. Remus was glad that Sirius and James hadn't been there during his encounter with Ciaran. Undoubtedly, the two would have begun shooting hexes at the Slytherin without restraint and earned all three of them a harsh detention.

Professor Binns appeared right on time, drifting into the classroom through the blackboard, and immediately began droning on where he left off from their last class period. Lily, as always, began by sitting bolt upright, quill in hand, poised to take notes. James and Sirius, as was often their preference, rested their heads on their hands in feigned interest and waited for sleep to overtake them. Peter usually managed to scribble a few notes, but he often finished out the class by sketching cartoon drawings of his classmates and the professor. He had filled several sheaves of parchment with these caricatures. Remus, like Lily, usually attempted to take copious notes, but he, too, often succumbed to drowsiness and daydreaming about three-quarters of the way through the lecture. Today he would not, however.

"And so, according to all the extant records, the natural wolf population, which also fell victim to overzealous werewolf hunters, dwindled dangerously low worldwide. It wasn't until relief efforts were begun in 1844 by a forward-thinking wizard named Thelonius St. John …" Binns intoned.

Finally, toward the end of class, many of the students were either in a stupor or fully asleep. Lily was staring off into space, James and Sirius were battling to keep their eyes open, and Peter was sketching his right hand. At last the class was over and students started filing out. Remus told James, Sirius, and Peter that he would meet them in Transfiguration. Slowly, his heart pounding, Remus approached Binns's desk. The professor was about to make his exit through the blackboard when Remus cleared his throat.

"Er, Professor Binns?" Remus said quietly, watching as his classmates left the room.

Binns turned to face him and blinked twice. "Yes, Mister, er …?"

"Lupin," said Remus. "I was wondering if you could answer a question."

Remus heard a derisive snort from the back corner of the room. _Severus_, he thought, as his palms began to sweat. He darted his eyes in that direction and saw Severus's hunched back as he exited the classroom. Remus waited until all the students were gone before he continued. "I wanted to ask you about records of werewolf attacks, where they happened, when they happened, who were the perpetrators and the victims, and so on. Is there somewhere I can locate information like that?"

Remus had already asked the Ministry of Magic last year, but officials would only release information on a need-to-know basis. They told him if a person lived near a registered werewolf, then the Ministry would alert all who lived within a fifteen-kilometer radius of that werewolf. Outside the fifteen kilometers, the privacy of the werewolf was respected. Actually, it had less to do with privacy than with keeping order. This "privacy" law had been enacted many years ago in an attempt to keep angry, fearful mobs from roaming town to town in search of werewolves to kill. Remus was the only werewolf in his family's radius, and he could obtain no information about any other werewolves. His friends and grandparents, eager to help in the search, spoke with the Ministry and reported that no werewolf was registered near their homes, either. But there had to be other, informal records, perhaps started long ago by individual towns and villages.

"Mister –" Binns began.

"Lupin," Remus prompted again.

"I can assure you that the exam will not require such detail, Mister Lupin."

Remus blinked; he hadn't expected this response. "Sir, it's just –" Remus cleared his throat. "I found your lectures on the issues facing werewolves and the general population quite interesting, and I wanted to learn more. Sir."

Professor Binns appeared, of all things, flustered at having the quality of his lectures complimented by a student. The ghost wiped his glasses on his insubstantial handkerchief. "I will look into the matter and get back to you." And he floated through the blackboard with no further ado.


	7. The Hogsmeade Visitors

Remus crouched under a tree on his hands and knees just inside the Forbidden Forest, waiting for the transformation to take him. His friends had already changed into their Animagi forms. After finally figuring out during their second year that Remus was a werewolf, James and Sirius, who both excelled at Transfiguration, had tirelessly worked on becoming Animagi and had finally succeeded last year, helping Peter to do the same. Now James, as a stag, and Sirius, as a large, black dog, circled Remus protectively. Peter, in rat form, clung to the thick fur near Sirius's neck.

The first time Remus had allowed them near him during the full moon was fall term a year ago, after the others had proven to him not only that they could maintain their Animagus manifestations, but that James and Sirius were strong enough as Animagi to fight a werewolf should the need arise.

The boys had checked the Marauder's Map before leaving the castle. No one was likely to surprise them; Hagrid wasn't working in the forest tonight, but instead sat quietly in his hut; Severus appeared to be working in the Slytherin Common Room; and Filch puttered in his office. James had hidden a set of extra clothing in the forest, as Remus always tore every stitch from his body once he was in werewolf form. Unlike the clothing and wands of Animagi, which were incorporated into their transformations, Remus's possessions did not transform with his body. With Dumbledore's approval, Remus now wore a set of Hogwarts exercise clothing, a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt; he usually tried to wear these at the full moon, because whatever he had on was always destroyed and lost.

Remus had asked the other boys repeatedly since last year to try not to watch him transform; he knew it must be very ugly to see and, though he knew his friends cared deeply for him, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the loss of control he experienced. He had no way of knowing whether or not they honored his request, because once the first pains hit him, he lost all semblance of human awareness.

His friends insisted that his mind became less "wolfish" when they were with him; and he supposed that it must be true, for when they went together to Hogsmeade in animal form, he returned with fewer self-inflicted bites and scratches on his arms and legs. He always felt a bit more like himself the following day, as well, and seemed to recover more quickly. When he was alone in the Shrieking Shack, he invariably injured himself out of frustration; and it took a good two or three days before he began to feel normal again.

Now Remus felt it beginning. The change had happened so many times that, like a scientist observing from behind a two-way mirror in another room, Remus noticed the shifts with almost a cold detachment. He could only analyze what happened right at the start of the transformation, because that was all he could remember; and he was always too depleted to pay much attention to what happened when he transformed back into a human. Tonight, as usual, it started with a brightening of the light as his pupils dilated. The dead twigs on the earth between his hands became more vivid; everything stood out in greater detail, as if someone had quickly outlined them with some magical paintbrush. Of their own volition, his fingers curled into the earth, digging in as if they could somehow hold him here. He began to hear a rush of blood in his ears and felt his lips curling backward involuntarily. A low howl began in his throat, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere else. Then the spasms of pain began as his body cramped into itself, resisting the mutation and yet powerless to refuse it, and he was aware of no more.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Just leave it! Leave it!" Remus heard a voice whispering frantically.

He felt a shirt sleeve slipping from his wrist and heard a soft rustle. The shirt must have fallen on the ground.

He was being carried, each arm draped over someone's shoulders, his wrists held fast by the person on either side. He was clothed only in a pair of wool pants, and his naked feet dragged the ground. His eyes fluttered open and he realized it was morning. The light was grey and depressing, the ground scraping across his toenails damp and cold.

"James?" he croaked.

"Yeah, mate. Sirius and I have got you. Best to stay quiet."

_Not a problem._ He heard what could only be Peter struggling to keep up behind them, stumbling and breathing hard. They appeared to be making their way back to Hogwarts through the Forbidden Forest on the east rather than by the road from Hogsmeade. James and Sirius were running so fast that they were practically hyperventilating. What had happened?

Now the shaking began, and Remus felt his friends tighten their grips on his arms. His entire body trembled for several minutes, and he tried to focus on the ground rushing past his knees until the quaking stopped. It was an odd sensation to experience in an upright position; he was usually still naked on the ground when this phase of recovery happened.

"We're almost there," Sirius whispered encouragingly.

Remus managed a weak laugh.

They crossed an open field and began to climb a hill. He was dimly aware of the Whomping Willow on his left. When they reached the castle, they skirted around to the west side until they reached classroom eleven, an unused room across from the Great Hall, which had a window low to the ground. James had snuck in and left this window slightly ajar last night, and now he clambered into the room while Sirius held onto Remus. The two managed to hoist Remus inside, and soon Sirius and Peter joined them. Safely indoors, they all sat leaning against the wall, panting and peering out the window, for some time.

Remus was now shivering from the cold and James threw his cloak over his friend's shoulders. Remus stared at his dirty toenails, relishing the mental numbness that allowed his mind to forget the pain, to refocus, to resharpen itself into its human sensibilities. The three sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for Remus to come back to himself. Finally Remus asked hoarsely, "Care to tell me what you got us into back there?"

"You're not going to believe this, Remus" James began.

"I was right all along," Sirius whispered through gritted teeth. Remus realized that Sirius had been sitting with his fists over his eyes all this time, since they had climbed through the window.

"Yeah, yeah, you were," James admitted. "But you had no proof."

"I had all the proof I needed!" Sirius growled. "And now we know for sure."

"Will you two stop arguing and tell me what happened? Peter?" Remus implored, turning his head toward him.

Peter stared wretchedly at the stone floor. "Death Eaters," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Death Eaters in Hogsmeade," Peter repeated, looking up. His small eyes burned into Remus's.

"And not just Death Eaters," Sirius spat. Suddenly he leapt up and began pacing the room like a caged animal. Peter watched Sirius circle the room, an unfathomable expression on his pinched face.

"What? Who?" Remus was becoming agitated. "Tell me!"

James shifted so that he was facing Remus. "We passed by the Hog's Head early this morning and thought it was strange that the lamps were still lit inside. So Sirius went closer and looked in the window. He saw a group of Death Eaters in there, with their robes and hoods. He even spotted a Dark Mark on one of their forearms."

"No one noticed him?" Remus asked anxiously.

"No, he was just a dog, remember?" James said, glancing at Sirius, who still paced furiously.

"So he came back to where we were hidden and told us what he'd seen," Peter explained. "And they – we decided that I should go in as a rat and try to hear what was going on."

"That blasted old bartender was just standing there, washing the same glass over and over again, watching them," Sirius seethed. "Why the hell would he let those monsters in there?"

"Sirius, shut up for a minute," James ordered quietly. "Go ahead, Peter."

"So – so I edged along the walls and under the booths until I was near them. I listened for about ten minutes." Peter was sweating and blinking a lot, Remus noticed. He could only imagine how terrified Peter, a defenseless rat eavesdropping at the feet of killers, must have been. "It seemed to be – to be a kind of a meeting. A – a –"

"A recruitment meeting!" Sirius raged.

Peter swallowed. "Yes. A recruitment meeting."

"And you'll never guess who was there," Sirius said dangerously, kneeling on the floor in front of Remus, their faces close together.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Sirius hissed the words, his grey eyes glinting like steel. "Severus. Snape." And he was on his feet again, storming around the room, tearing at his hair.

Remus looked at James, who nodded. They watched each other bleakly for a moment, then James went on. "There were others, too."

"Oh, yes, my family is full of great ambition!" Sirius practically shrieked. "It's a veritable Who's Who of the Black family!"

James flinched at the racket Sirius was making, but said nothing.

"Who was there?" Remus asked.

Sirius groaned as he paced.

James spoke quietly. "Well, we knew that Lucius Malfoy was one of them already. Narcissa Black was with him. Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange were there."

"They invited me to their wedding, HA!" Sirius barked.

"There were a few other Death Eaters Peter didn't recognize. There were some recent graduates there – Crabbe and Goyle and Avery were three that Peter saw. And some current students, as well – Snape, of course … and Regulus Black."

Everyone was silent. Remus looked at Sirius, who now pressed his fists against the far wall as if he could topple it. Sirius's younger brother was only a fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Stupid. Bloody. Kid." Sirius muttered to himself, his black hair hanging around his face as he stared at the floor between his shoes. "Told him not to talk to Snivellus. Told him and told him – "

_Was this why Sirius had lured Severus to the Whomping Willow? _Remus wondered. _To protect Regulus from the Death Eaters?_ He hugged his knees to his chest and turned to James, who was watching Sirius carefully. James took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes roughly, then replaced them. Everyone was quiet for several minutes. Remus heard birds beginning to chirp and caw outside. Peter's stomach rumbled.

"So, why exactly were we running back to Hogwarts?" Remus asked.

"Well," James said, "we stayed in Hogsmeade a bit longer than we had planned. You, er, started getting restless –"

Remus winced.

"– and the Death Eaters heard us and came to the window. We had to wait for Peter to reach us and jump back onto Sirius, otherwise he'd never have gotten out of there."

"We should've gone in – " Sirius mumbled into the wall.

"Don't be daft," James retorted impatiently. "We were outnumbered thirteen to three! Remus couldn't have helped us; he was about to transform and had no wand anyway. Besides …" James paused. "Once they see us, it's all over for our families. You know that, right? The Blacks may be relatively protected because there are so many of them on Voldemort's side, but the rest of us …" James glanced at Remus at Peter, then quickly looked away.

Sirius took a long, rattling breath and punched the wall once.

James continued. "We made our way back through the forest as Animagi so the Death Eaters wouldn't see us, but they still fired some spells in our direction. I doubt we were followed, but we didn't want to take any chances. We made our way back as close to the school as we could, then you changed back and we got some clothes on you –"

"I remember the rest," Remus interjected.

"Yeah. Well. Here we are." James leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at Sirius again, who hadn't moved from the wall.

Peter still gazed miserably at the floor. Remus spoke compassionately to him. "I'm glad you're all right, mate."

Peter merely tittered nervously, flashing his eyes briefly at Remus. Then he occupied himself with watching a piece of lint drift across the floor in a draft.

James stood and slowly crossed to the center of the room. "I suggest we all get some sleep. There's nothing to be done about all this right now."

He stood next to Sirius and waited. Sirius remained still for a long moment, then he dropped his hands and threw open the door, striding angrily toward the stairs. James went back to Remus and helped him to his feet. With Peter, they climbed slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, where Sirius was already pretending to be asleep.


	8. The First Change

_It was a Sunday, and his grandparents were visiting, which meant that Remus should have been happy. But two Healers from St. Mungo's had just arrived, and there was a palpable tension in the air. As the afternoon wore on, the adults sat in his parents' living room talking in whispers. His grandparents took it in turns to go outside with Remus and play with him in the fresh, cold afternoon; but there were strange, sad looks on their faces that made Remus quite nervous. Every once in a while, his mother Rowena would come outside and hug him fiercely, whisper that she loved him, then disappear again into the living room. His father Owen sat in the window and never took his eyes off of him; he wore an expression that Remus didn't understand._

_Remus knew that something was about to happen to him tonight, for the first time. His parents and the Healers had prepared him as best they could. They explained that the bite on his shoulder had come from a werewolf, which meant that he was one now, too. But Remus still felt the same as he always had. Maybe someone had made a mistake. Maybe it was just a dog or a regular wolf that had attacked him last month. Maybe nothing at all would happen tonight when the moon appeared._

_Remus pushed a tin train across the dry, brown grass and made the appropriate sound effects, but his heart wasn't really in it, hadn't been in it since that night. His grandmother Margaret had given him the train, one of many Muggle toys she had played with when she was a girl; Remus's father had used it when he was a boy, as well. Remus played with the train more for her sake than his own; but he felt safer in her presence. However, he was sad that she seemed so worried. _

_The sky behind the garden shed was slowly changing from pale blue to pink, orange, and purple, punctuated by thin, wispy clouds. There was only a little more time left to play, and his eyes remained locked on the train being pushed along by his gloved hand._

_He felt rather than saw his parents walking towards him, along with his other three grandparents and the two Healers. Quickly, his grandmother hugged him and whispered in his ear an old nursery rhyme she used to say to him at bedtime when he would come to visit: _

_I see the moon _

_the moon sees me _

_God bless the moon_

_and God bless me_

_She kissed his cheek, and when she pulled back her eyes were glistening with tears. She stepped away from him and inched toward the other grownups. Remus dropped his train and got to his feet. All the adults except his parents were standing respectfully several paces away. His parents knelt close to him and embraced him, muttering quietly in his ear. Why did his father keep using the word "sorry," Remus wondered. It wasn't his fault Remus had been bitten. His father was now offering words of reassurance, but he felt his mother shaking as tears rolled down her face._

"_It's okay, Mum. Don't worry," Remus said, his arms around her neck; but she only cried harder. He inhaled her comforting smell of flowers and laundry, never wanting to leave her arms. He peeled off his gloves so he could feel the warmth of her neck under his hands, touch her dark hair. But then one of the Healers stepped forward, looking skyward._

"_It's time, son," his father whispered gruffly, still kneeling, taking Remus's small hand in his own. "We'll be right outside, all of us. You'll be fine, and we'll see you in the morning. Granddad will make pancakes."_

_Remus smiled over his father's shoulder at his grandfather, Jonathan, who stood rubbing his mustache with his knuckles, his other arm crossed over his body with the hand tucked into his armpit. His grandfather waved briefly, offered the tiniest flicker of a smile, then commenced rubbing his mustache again, his eyebrows tented with worry._

_Remus's parents walked with him into the garden shed, which the Healers had called "the most humane option." The previous week the shed had been cleared of all sharp tools and equipment, reminders of the Muggle farmer who used to live here years ago. Inside was some soft bedding in a corner, with some old blankets and a pillow. It didn't look very comfortable. There was nothing else in the shed except a plate with some of his favorite snacks on it, but Remus didn't feel particularly hungry. The shed smelled like petrol and old grass clippings. There was a hole in the roof of one corner of the shed, through which Remus glimpsed the darkening sky. It somehow made him feel less trapped, and he was thankful for that little hole._

_His mother planted several hard kisses on his face, and his father embraced him roughly, kissing the top of his head. Then they backed out of the shed._

"_Good night, my sweet," his mother whispered huskily, her face wet with tears._

_And the door shut._

_Outside Remus heard incantations, and he knew that the adults were magically sealing the door and strengthening the walls, just as Mum and Dad had said they would do. They had also magically lengthened the walls into the ground so that he wouldn't be able to dig his way out. Remus didn't think he would be capable of digging through this packed earth, much less destroying anything; but the Healers had told him he would become quite strong and determined when he transformed._

_Remus paced the edge of the shed, his heart starting to race. The thudding felt like the rapid heartbeat of his pet rabbit, Dylan, and it thumped faster than he ever knew it could. Realizing he had left his gloves outside on the ground and feeling suddenly quite cold, he thrust his hands deeply into his pockets. Remus measured out the space of the shed as he walked along the periphery, trying to distract his mind by counting his strides, slowly, heel to toe, breathing in and out with each deliberate step. Perhaps nothing at all will happen, he kept saying to himself. As he neared the door again, he could hear his mother crying and his father speaking in low tones to her. They must have been sitting right next to the door. Remus sat with his back to the door and closed his eyes, trying to pretend that they were in here with him. He felt very frightened and close to tears himself; but he had promised to be brave. He would not let his parents down._

_For several long minutes, nothing happened. He began to think he was right, that it was all a mistake. Remus looked up at the hole in the roof and saw a few faint stars peeping at him from the growing darkness. His grandmother's nursery rhyme bit into his thoughts and he spoke it aloud in a small voice._

_I see the moon _

_the moon sees me _

_God bless the moon_

_and – _

_Suddenly Remus's entire body cramped and he doubled over onto the dirt floor, clawing the earth with his fingers. The room was upside down as his forehead hit the ground, and everything was whirling, suddenly bright, suddenly vivid and garish. He felt his mouth open into a scream, and thought he heard his parents calling his name. Why weren't they here? His eyes closed involuntarily as pain tore through every part of him. His scream sounded strange, not like himself, and that frightened him almost more than the pain. He wanted to escape, escape, escape … and soon, mercifully, he lost all awareness …_

_When Remus opened his eyes again, he didn't know where he was. It felt as if a month had passed, or perhaps just a minute. Every part of him hurt, and he felt incredibly tired. He was crouching face down on dirt, knees underneath his torso, head turned to one side and arms resting at strange angles. From the corner of his eye he saw light through a hole in the roof. Where was he? That patch of light was too bright in this dark room. He tried to turn his head to the other side, away from the light; but he couldn't move, nor could he focus his eyes on anything; wherever he was, the place seemed to be spinning. He was shaking violently, and he had no clothes on. His arms and legs stung as if he had been running through brambles. He felt wetness on his contorted face and realized he was crying._

"_Mum?" he called hoarsely – too quietly, he was sure, to be heard, if anyone was around at all._

_Suddenly a door burst open and his parents had turned him over and were holding him tightly. He felt his mother's tears on his forehead and his father's rough stubble on his cheek._

Remus woke, breathing heavily, and immediately got out of bed. While his friends slept, he paced the bed tower, listening to the soft padding of his own bare feet across the cool stone, back and forth, back and forth. Sweat trickled down his back. Finally he lumbered down to the dark, empty Common Room, took off his pajama top, opened a window, and leaned out into the bitter night air. The rough, cold stone under his palms was reassuring. He inhaled deeply, once, twice, listening to the sounds of the crickets. Presently, somewhere in the darkness, a wolf howled. Remus looked toward the Forbidden Forest, imagining the animal pausing over a tree root, signaling other members of its pack, calling for its mate.


	9. Valentine's Day

It was a testament to how shaken all the boys were by the discovery at Hogsmeade that, ten days later, James hadn't created some sort of extravagant Valentine's Day present for Lily Evans. Instead, he read in the Gryffindor Common Room, his feet propped up on a little ottoman in front of him, eyes quickly darting from one side of the page to the other. Lily was there, too, writing an essay across from her friend Olivia. At first glance, Lily might have seemed immersed in her work; but Remus, waiting for his four o'clock student to arrive, saw that she kept sneaking peeks at James. Perhaps she was waiting for Peeves to appear. Last year James had somehow coaxed (or bribed) Peeves into singing a bawdy love song to her during breakfast in the Great Hall. She had flushed nearly as red as her hair and dashed, food untouched, from the hall, as the entire school erupted in laughter. This was not James's brightest Casanova moment, Remus had remarked to the snickering James.

Sirius had made himself rather scarce during the last weeks. Remus suspected he still wasn't talking to his brother Regulus. He wasn't certain where he'd been hiding himself, but he didn't want to press him.

At two minutes until four, his pupil arrived – a skinny, third year Hufflepuff boy named Madhav Sastri. He quickly sat down at the table next to Remus and opened his Arithmancy book, _Numerology and Grammatica_. Since they would only be discussing the magical properties of numbers and working on Madhav's homework assignment, Remus figured it was safe enough to work in the Common Room. When doing practical magic lessons, however, he had to meet other students in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom after hours. Remus would only tutor one student per day, so that he would have time for his own studies.

Madhav was a good student, but he tended to be too hasty in his homework. Remus's method of teaching him was to ask him lots of questions about why he thought an answer was so. It seemed to help slow Madhav's thought process down enough so that he could reach the best conclusion himself, without much more prompting from Remus. Remus figured soon he'd be able to release this student and perhaps take on a new one.

Today, however, Madhav was agitated. Remus didn't like to pry, but he could see that the boy's emotional state was interfering with his ability to concentrate. Remus heard himself going through the same paces he'd been through early on, telling Madhav to take a step back and analyze his conclusion a second time. Usually this approach worked well with the boy, but today it only seemed to needle him.

"All right," Remus finally conceded. "Why don't we take a break?"

Madhav sulked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Pumpkin juice?" Remus offered from a pitcher.

Madhav shrugged, keeping his gaze stubbornly on the table between them. Remus poured two glasses and slid one toward his student. Madhav's large, dark eyes regarded it for a moment, then he took the glass and sipped thoughtfully.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Sure," Remus smiled. "You let me know when you're ready to go on."

The two sat in silence, drinking their juice, for about a minute. Finally Madhav said quietly, "Why are girls so strange?"

Remus resisted the impulse to grin. Instead, he responded seriously, "I think they wonder the same about boys, don't you?"

"No, girls are definitely stranger."

"Okay."

"I mean, I know this girl likes me. So I gave her a Valentine's card this morning. And now she won't talk to me."

"Hmm, that is difficult," Remus agreed.

"So, what do you do? I mean, girls must like you, Remus. What do _you_ do?"

Remus involuntarily shot a glance toward Lily and he saw that, for some reason, she was watching him. Their eyes met briefly, but she quickly looked back down at her work. Remus's heart fluttered, and he tried to ignore it.

"Erm, actually, believe it or not, I'm not hugely popular with the girls."

Madhav looked askance at Remus. He was still at an age when he thought all older boys had somehow figured it all out.

"Why don't you just try asking her on a date?" Remus offered. "Ask her to Hogsmeade. The worst that can happen is she says no."

"No, the worst that can happen is she does a Bat Bogey hex on me."

"Touché," Remus acknowledged.

Madhav finished his juice and scooted his chair up to the table again. He managed to focus a little better now that he'd griped a little, and the rest of the lesson went rather well. He packed up his books, thanked Remus, and slipped out of the portrait hole.

Remus heard a tapping on one of the windows. A small brown owl had landed on the sill and was pecking to be let in. James, being closest, put his book down and retrieved the message, and the owl took off for the owlery for some food and rest.

"Remus! You got a Valentine!" James shouted so that the whole room could hear. He held the ribboned scroll high in the air.

A Valentine? He carefully avoided looking at Lily again and crossed the room. James couldn't resist holding the letter out of Remus's reach until Remus was forced to use a summoning charm. The letter flew out of James's hands and into Remus's.

"It's probably from my grandmother," he muttered to James as he sat on the sofa next to him.

"Like Sirius says, older women are underrated, my friend," James deadpanned.

"You sicken me," Remus replied good-naturedly.

As he suspected, the letter was indeed from his Muggle grandmother, Margaret Quinn Lupin. His grandfather Jonathan had met the writer while on a mapmaking trip to Buenos Aires; Margaret was visiting Argentina from England while doing research for a book she was writing. They had fallen madly in love and married there within weeks, much to the chagrin of Margaret's family.

During Remus's boyhood, Margaret had introduced him to all her favorite books. She had also introduced him personally to several famous writers they had invited for dinner at their little lakeside cottage in Wales. She had impeccable taste, and everyone agreed that she really knew how to throw a party.

For some reason Grandmother Margaret felt compelled to send him a Valentine's letter each year with a poem she thought he might appreciate. Today was no different. Remus couldn't deny that he was glad for her sentimental letters; at least someone had sent him a Valentine. And although she was a Muggle, he felt that often she understood him better than his parents did. He felt warmth spread through him as he read her broad, flourished handwriting:

_My dearest, favorite, and only grandson, _

_Here is a little poem I found by Christina Rosetti, written in 1893. Boy, she hits the nail on the head, doesn't she? Well, here you are. Take a lesson from old Christina. Don't be tortured. I know it's hard when you're nearly seventeen, but give it a shot. Try not to be lonely again this year: ask someone out. It won't kill you, you know. Happy V. Day, Remus._

_Your loving grandmother,_

_Margaret Miranda Quinn Lupin_

_The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness_

_Ready and poised to wax or wane;_

_A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,_

_Tending to pleasure or to pain:—_

_Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness_

_To perfect loss or perfect gain._

_Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;_

_This world is all on wax, on wane:_

_When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,_

_Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?—_

_Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness_

_To finished loss or finished gain._

Remus sighed. And she wondered where he had inherited his penchant for melancholy.


	10. Slughorn's Invitation

Potions class with Professor Slughorn was, as usual, a challenge. The professor had decided after Christmas to create a special points system in which the relative perfection of a student's potion could earn that student an invitation to Slughorn's weekly Friday evening soiree and a chance to rub elbows with some of his more illustrious acquaintances. Even as a student, Remus could see that this was precisely the wrong way to teach Potions. Those who were desperate to earn Slughorn's personal favor rushed through desperately, making stupid mistakes; Remus glanced over at Peter and found his friend hastily chopping his sopophorous beans in an amount that appeared more excessive than the recipe required, leaving bits of pod mixed in with the juice. However, more than a few students wanted as little to do with the slimy Slughorn as possible. Remus's solution was to deliberately throw a dash of corn starch into every potion to ruin it at the last moment as Slughorn approached the table. _But it's hardly necessary_, Remus reminded himself, fingering the bag of powder in his pocket. _Your potions aren't that good, and Slughorn wouldn't invite you anyway. Your family's not important enough._

Slughorn often tried to invite Sirius to his Friday events, even when his potions failed. But Sirius, skilled in the art of small talk from years of hobnobbing alongside his wealthy and influential relatives, always managed, politely enough, to decline. Remus wasn't certain if Slughorn knew that Sirius had left home in a rage the previous summer, sick of his family's obsession with the purity of wizard blood. If the professor knew about Sirius's departure, Sirius wasn't about to place himself in a situation in which Slughorn would try to convince him to return to the Black family fold. And if Slughorn wasn't aware of the falling-out, Sirius refused to be a pawn in the man's attempts to get closer to the prominent Black family.

There were two in the class who seemed unfazed by the new reward system: Severus and Lily. Strangely enough, they always worked together at the same table, hardly ever speaking, rarely making eye contact. Remus didn't think the two were friends; in fact, Severus had insulted Lily deeply once, when she had come to Severus's defense during one of James's fits of misbehavior last spring. But they continued to work across from one another, their ingredients lined up just so, spread across the table in some sort of organized pattern recognizable only to them. Lily always stared solemnly at the ingredients before she began to work, her body hunched over, feet planted wide, hands gripping the sides of the table as if it were a Muggle pinball machine, her eyes darting from place to place, as if visualizing the preparation itself before the first component was touched. After several moments of this she would burst into work quickly, like a cat pouncing on a rat, with confidence and utter concentration. Severus, in contrast, moved slowly and continuously, as if some unseen dance partner were in his hands rather than mere elements of a potion. Remus was often surprised by the tenderness and agility of Severus's fingers when he was working like this.

Today, though, Remus had no time to watch the goings on in the room, as this potion, the Draught of the Living Death, was complex and would require all his attention. He wasn't the best at Potions, although he tried very hard. He felt the other students around him disappear as his vision became solely focused on the task in front of him. He was having particular trouble cutting the sopophorous beans, and the juice was somehow being re-absorbed into the flesh of the pod. He salvaged as much of the liquid as he could and continued. By the end of the class, his potion was a miserable shade of green instead of blackcurrant. _No need for corn starch today_, he thought dryly. Glancing around, he noticed that no one appeared to have succeeded, though at least Lily's potion was lilac. She was frowning at her cauldron as if something inside it had betrayed her.

"Brilliant," Lily muttered, biting her lip.

Impressively, Severus's potion was a darker lilac, but his, too, had failed. He, however, was not looking at his potion; instead, he gazed curiously at his knife lying on the table. He put down the marble pestle he held and reached for his silver dagger. He then began smashing the remainder of the sopophorous beans with the flat of the blade and watched with satisfaction as the juice poured out easily into the flat metal pan holding the beans. With a smirk that was almost a smile, he tossed the dagger down and stood back, as if the potion were perfect now. Then he grabbed his quill and scribbled some notes into his well-worn _Advanced Potion-Making_ book, his hooked nose nearly touching the page.

"Ah, Mister Snape," Slughorn wheezed, sidling up to the table. "So close. I would have wagered that, if anyone in this class could have done it, it would have been you. No offense, Miss Evans," he smiled obsequiously as Lily lowered her eyes.

"Still," he continued, "I would like to invite you to tomorrow's dinner in my rooms. It looks as if you made a rather qualifying discovery here at the end." The professor indicated the bean juice in the steel pan.

"Thank you, Professor, but no," Severus hissed softly, his black eyes glinting. Severus, as usual, offered no explanation as to why he declined Slughorn's invitations.

"No?" Slughorn raised his eyebrows; he always acted surprised when someone refused to attend one of his gatherings. Wasting no time, he turned his watery gaze to Lily. "Ah, well, then, Miss Evans – it appears we have an extra spot at the table. As your potion was nearly there, would you care to join us?"

"Sir, I'm honored … but I have plans already," she offered quickly.

"Oh, dear. We've been without your sparkling company for quite a while now. Whatever shall we do to win you back?" Slughorn smiled broadly.

Lily returned the smile politely, then busied herself with cleaning up her side of the table. As the class finished packing up and filing out of the room, Remus suddenly had a thought. Why hadn't he thought of asking Professor Slughorn about this before? He told James, Sirius, and Peter he would catch up with them at lunch.

"Er, Professor Slughorn?" Remus placed his potions book back into his bag as the last student left the classroom.

"Yes, Mister Lupin?" Slughorn glanced over his shoulder as he continued to magically replace vials and jars of ingredients back onto the shelves.

"I wondered if I could ask you a question about, er, research," Remus said, moving closer to the professor as he continued to work.

At once, Slughorn's eyes gleamed brightly and he turned to face Remus. "Ah, a student interested in the noble branch of scholarship! How refreshing! I had no idea that you harbored such a curiosity, young man. Of course, I knew you were highly intelligent; your other teachers have raved about your excellence in all your studies." Slughorn lowered his voice and leaned toward Remus. "I could connect you to all the right people, you know. The field of research is sorely lacking in dedicated experts right now, and I have friends who would happily take you on as an apprentice after your seventh year."

Remus hadn't expected this reaction – he had merely wished to ask Slughorn if he knew anything about the latest research on antidotes for werewolf bites.

"May I ask what your field of interest might be?" Slughorn gushed.

Remus swallowed. He could see the wheels turning in Slughorn's greedy mind even now, and he decided to take advantage of the professor's enthusiasm. "Well, we've been reading in History of Magic about the werewolf problem" – using the book's term made his stomach turn – "and I was reminded of the Greyback attack. I've heard that the Greybacks hired several potions masters in an attempt to find a cure for their son. I'm just interested in how far the research had gotten before the family gave up. I can't seem to find that much information about it."

"Ah, yes. You mean _Fenrir_ Greyback, of course." Slughorn's eyes narrowed and he studied Remus's face for a moment. The Greybacks were a prominent wizarding family, and the infection of their son had caused quite a stir at the time. "Hmm, very interesting. Very interesting, indeed. It's a tragic tale, just tragic," he whispered conspiratorially.

Remus knew that Dumbledore had only told a select few professors about his lycanthropy, and he was thankful that the indiscreet Slughorn was not one of that handful. He nodded, eager to keep the conversation going.

"Research is undeniably a very ambitious calling, Mister Lupin," he winked. Slughorn began to pace the classroom. "You shall have to work harder in my class, I'm afraid. But " – here he paused dramatically – "I think you have potential. Your potions are sometimes quite acceptable, but you're inconsistent. We need to refine your skill. With perseverance, you could improve nicely before you graduate."

"Thank you, sir," Remus muttered, feeling his cheeks growing hot. "But I'm not certain that I want to be –"

"Nonsense!" Slughorn interrupted. "Young man, you should attend this Friday's dinner in my rooms. By pure coincidence, one of my guests will be none other than Adelaide Honeyduke. Were you aware that she is Madam Greyback's cousin? Madam Honeyduke is quite elderly now, but she still manages her sweets shop with an iron fist, I can tell you that. Sharp as a tack, that one. And I don't need to tell you her chocolates are heavenly," Slughorn chuckled, slapping his large belly.

Remus was reeling with this new knowledge. Before he knew what he was saying, he blurted, "Thank you, sir. I'll be there."

"Seven-thirty sharp," Slughorn winked. Eyeing Remus's second-hand Prefect's robes, he added, "Oh, and you may want to wear your dress robes."


	11. A Promising Career

That evening the Gryffindor Common Room was full of the loud chatter of students anticipating the weekend, so Remus went to the library to study. He had left Sirius and James playing wizard chess and arguing vociferously over the international Quidditch teams. He had no idea where Peter was tonight; he had been disappearing quite often lately, and Remus wondered idly if he had found himself a girlfriend.

After about an hour, Remus finished his Transfiguration homework, and he stepped over to the stacks of periodical literature. He knew the locations of all the articles about Fenrir Greyback and his parents, and he knew that they offered little in the way of detailed information about progress toward a cure. Pulling out an issue of _The Daily Prophet_ from fourteen years ago, Remus began to read once more:

_… The prominent couple tirelessly pursued an antidote for the tragic werewolf bite that claimed their only son's health and the family's happiness. Armand and Lavinia Greyback were advanced in age when they were finally blessed with a child, and their attentiveness to him was boundless. For eleven years, until their untimely deaths last week, a significant portion of the Greyback fortune was devoted to finding a cure for eighteen-year-old Fenrir and others who share his affliction. The _Daily Prophet _has tried to reach young Mister Greyback for comment; but he remains secluded, understandably, since his parents were found in their manor, apparently the victims of a robbery gone awry. All financial assets have been transferred into a trust until the family's attorney-at-law succeeds in contacting the Greybacks' only heir and executor of estate …_

"Hello, Remus." A familiar voice startled him and he nearly dropped the paper. He wheeled around and saw Lily settling her books at his study table. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"N-no, of course not," he replied, hastily folding the newspaper and replacing it back in the stacks.

"This is the farthest I can get from Madam Pince. She snaps if you breathe too loudly," Lily whispered, grinning.

"Yeah," Remus agreed, seating himself across from Lily. "But I like sitting near the newspaper stacks, anyway. If I get bored, I can always pull up the gossip section in the _Quibbler_ to find out who's snogging whom."

Lily made a face and laughed, which caused Remus's grin to widen all the more. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and found that it was easier to do so when he wasn't looking at Lily's face. Even so, he felt her presence as if she were a blazing fire on a bitter winter's night; everything behind him was cold, and everything facing her was prickly and hot.

The two settled down with their books, and presently Lily spoke again. "Listen, Remus, I want to thank you for sticking up for me in Binns's class the other day –"

Remus felt himself blushing. "Oh, you didn't need my help."

"That's true," she said bluntly. "And if it happens again and you draw your wand, I'm going to clobber you. You don't need to wind up in detention, especially as a Prefect. You'll lose all credibility."

Remus stared at her in surprise, thrilled by her directness, her honesty with him. "But Cromwell called you a – a … well, I don't want to repeat it."

Lily smiled sadly. "Remus, I can't lie and say it doesn't hurt me when people say things like that. But the people who know me know it doesn't matter."

"I know what you mean," Remus agreed, watching her intently.

Lily turned back to her books; but when her eyes left him, Remus found that he wanted to keep talking to her. "Why do you work at Severus's table in Potions?" he asked abruptly. _Where did that question come from?_ he thought. But it was too late to take it back.

Lily looked up, startled, and a cloud crossed her face. "Look, I know you lot don't like him, but he's not all bad."

Remus felt shame creep over him once more at the thought of the near-tragedy in December. Nevertheless, he now knew that Severus had met with Death Eaters at least once. "Lily," he said quietly, "there are things about him you don't know."

"And there are things about him _you_ don't know," she countered hotly, tossing her quill down on the table.

"How can you defend him? He called you a Mudblood." The slur was out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Lily retorted hotly, "because James was holding him upside down in front of me and everyone else, wasn't he? I shouldn't have tried to help him," she said with bitterness. "He didn't want me to see him like that," she added, her cheeks turning red. She said no more, her eyes dark.

Remus's heart skipped a beat, and he unexpectedly felt intensely, irrationally jealous.

He was silent for a moment, wanting and not wanting to know what she meant by that comment. More gently this time, he asked again, "Still, why do you work at his table?"

Lily looked at Remus, her brow knitted. "Well, he's … he's … organized," she concluded cryptically.

Remus couldn't suppress a smirk and was bolstered by the smile returning to Lily's face. "All right, then, let me put it this way, Mistress of Mysteries. Why does Severus work at _your_ table?"

"Ha! Have you seen me work? I'm clumsy, I talk to myself, I look like a big jerk." She laughed. "I think I make Severus feel cool by comparison."

Remus knew this was a ridiculous reason, but he ignored it. Instead he found himself saying, "You don't look like a big jerk." And he regretted saying it the moment it left his lips, for he began to blush furiously. He caught the barest glimpse of a sparkle in Lily's eyes before he looked down at his book once more.

The two worked in silence for an hour, the last fifteen minutes of which Remus was actually able to concentrate on his reading instead of the small movements Lily was making as she worked. They walked back to Gryffindor Tower together and Remus decided to ask her what he should expect at Slughorn's soiree tomorrow night.

"So how come he finally invited you?" she asked. The word "finally" in that question made Remus feel prouder than Slughorn's invitation itself ever could have done, even though he knew he didn't deserve the praise.

Now Remus was at a loss for words; he couldn't tell her about Greyback. "Well … I told him I might be interested in research, and he decided to, uh, get me connected to the right people. Strange, innit?" he laughed.

"Not so strange," Lily said encouragingly. "You have the mind for it."

Remus felt himself grinning again, not daring to contradict her by saying that he had no interest whatsoever in becoming a scholar.

"Blubbering buffoon," Lily said as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Okay, the first thing you have to watch out for at this dinner is Slughorn using you as a performing monkey," she warned as they walked into the dark Common Room. "He's going to put your talents and your background on display for whatever old codgers he invites, and he'll flout your accomplishments as if he were personally responsible for them."

"Right, no performing monkey," Remus repeated. Fortunately, since he was such a mediocre Potions student, Remus couldn't see Slughorn boasting very vehemently about him. He was very thankful that Slughorn didn't know he was a werewolf; otherwise that would probably be the main topic of the party and soon the whole school would know.

They sat facing each other on Remus's favorite brown velvet couch and she continued. "Next, he will attempt to manipulate you into agreeing to do stupid projects for him. Be strong! Say no. The minute you say yes, he will use that as leverage to rope you into countless meaningless tasks."

"No slave labor, okay," Remus nodded. He felt as if he should be taking notes, and he watched her attentively in the dim light.

"Third, and most important, you will have to be careful about what you say in his presence. Slughorn is very indiscreet and he will blab to the first person he sees if he thinks the information can get him somewhere."

"Shut my cakehole," Remus muttered. _That won't be a problem_, he thought.

"This is very enlightening," Sirius observed. Remus and Lily started at the sound of his voice and saw that he and James were sitting in shadows in the big squishy chairs just across from the couch, their wizard chess game on the table between them. Remus and Lily hadn't even noticed them when they entered the room.

"Do you mind if we listen?" James asked with a lopsided grin. "Not that I'll ever be invited to one of Sluggy's big events."

Sirius leaned back so that he was nearly parallel with the floor, his arms dangling over the sides of the plush chair. "I thought you were avoiding those dinners like the plague. What happened?"

Remus began to stammer. "Oh, w-well, it's funny. R-really. I just asked Slughorn a question at the end of class, and, erm, I don't know – "

"Remus told him of his interest in research," Lily piped up.

Sighing, Remus placed a hand over his eyes just in time for James to say, "Oh, really? How very, very interesting." James clambered over Sirius's feet to seat himself on the couch between Remus and Lily. "Do tell, Remus. I'm all ears."

"I'll even shut my cakehole," Sirius said, grinning sardonically from his horizontal position.

"It's no big deal," Remus said helplessly, his eyes still covered. He couldn't explain to them in front of Lily that he was merely asking about Greyback; but he knew they wouldn't let it go now, either. He endured several minutes of their showing off for Lily, gushing over him and his "promising career." Finally he feigned sleepiness and excused himself. Lily, too, wished the boys good night and left them to finish their game of chess.

As he changed into his pajamas, Remus reflected that Lily had actually smiled at some of James's ribbing. What had happened to cause this change of heart? She had had no patience for their humor in years past, and she particularly hadn't cared for James's and Sirius's more mischievous antics last year. He saw a softening of her demeanor around them tonight and didn't know what to make of it. He supposed he should be happy for James, if she was actually coming around. But a small, selfish part of him – he couldn't deny it – wanted nothing of the sort.


	12. Slughorn's Party

As Professor Slughorn had suggested, Remus had donned his mahogany velvet dress robes, which were slightly less worn than his Prefect's robes. Being unfashionable didn't bother him, but he worried about his parents' ability to live well as they got older. His family, like the Greybacks and many others, had used much of their meager savings to pay renowned witches, wizards, and potions masters for research into a reversal or a cure. Not a one had been able to come up with more than a sleeping draught.

Remus stood in front of the mirror of the boys' bathroom and assessed his appearance, something he did very seldom; he preferred not to scrutinize the scars on his face too regularly. The last time he had spent any amount of time in front of a mirror was before last year's Yule dance in Hogsmeade. He had taken as his date Elphaba Carnes, a very straightforward Ravenclaw who was two years his senior. During a walk outside, she had commented on his "sensitive mouth," then had begun devouring as much of it as she could in a potent kiss. They had ended up snogging the rest of the evening against the wooden colonnades of a pergola. The romance had fizzled a few weeks afterwards when she realized that Remus wanted to spend his study hours actually studying, with dates reserved for the weekends.

Truthfully, if Remus were honest with himself, he hadn't really known what to do with her. She was older, and more experienced, he supposed; and, quite frankly, she frightened him a bit. And then there was the fact that he was a werewolf. He couldn't take the chance of her finding out – or, worse, getting hurt. In the long run, it was easier not to get involved.

Thinking of the Yule dance, he was reminded of Lily. James, of course, had asked her to go with him; but she had refused. Instead, she had gone with a chap named Xavier Rossi, a dark, brooding Ravenclaw whom Remus didn't know at all. The couple had sat at a table all night, never dancing, never holding hands, never even speaking, as far as he could tell. Lily seemed to be having such a horrible evening that when James had asked Lily to dance, she had agreed – to the rage of James's Hufflepuff date, Luisa Bainbridge, who, fully aware of James's crush, had stormed out of the Hogsmeade Town Hall with two friends. Remus never knew how this story panned out; to his relief, this was the precise moment when Elphie had invited Remus to take a stroll on the grounds, and she had managed to distract him from thoughts of Lily and James rather nicely.

Suddenly, a fantasy of kissing Lily against the colonnade burst into his head. These thoughts had been happening more and more often lately, for some reason. He had to make a conscious effort to stay away from her, he resolved for the hundredth time.

But still he found himself leaning towards the mirror, trying to observe what Lily might see if she were to look that closely at him. His skin was a bit too pale, and of course there were the scars over his left eyebrow, on his left cheek, and above his lip. His hair, a warm shade of light brown, was reasonable enough, he decided. Was that a grey hair? He pulled on it to examine it more closely and, confirming that it was indeed grey, smoothed it back down with the rest, deciding to ignore it. His nose was a little large; but, nevertheless, it had a sensible, nearly Romanesque profile as he turned his head to one side and the other. His lips were indeed rather sculpted, as Elphaba had pointed out, and not too shabby, he thought. Over the past year he had noticed a few wrinkles around his eyes, which he chalked up to the physical toll of the monthly transformation. In his eyes, flecks of many colors burst outward from his pupils. Sometimes they appeared blue, or brown, or grey; "hazel" his mother had once said, but he wasn't so sure. Would Lily like looking into them? Upon closer inspection of his irises, he saw the golden ring encircling each pupil; it looked as if there was a solar eclipse occurring in each of his eyes.

"Oy, Moony!" James burst into the bathroom and smacked Remus good-naturedly on the back of the head, making Remus nearly knock his forehead into the mirror. "Still waiting for that beard to grow?"

"Ha ha, no," Remus retorted, backing guiltily away from the mirror and straightening his robes. Remus had finally told James and Sirius in detail about his upcoming meeting with Adelaide Honeyduke, and James leaned against a sink and surveyed him approvingly. He still hadn't seen Peter to tell him.

"Listen, mate, I've been looking for Peter for two days," James said, almost as if he could read Remus's mind, "but I haven't seen him outside of class. What's he been up to?"

"No idea. I haven't seen him either," replied Remus. "Girlfriend?"

James stared at Remus as if he had just sprouted six extra arms. "Peter? With a girl?" He burst into throaty laughter. "I admit that the possibility had never occurred to me," James snorted. His cackling echoed on the stone walls and the porcelain fixtures. "Wow, wouldn't that be something? Wormtail gets some action, at last – "

Suddenly Remus was angry. "Don't you think he deserves a girlfriend, just like anyone else?" he demanded, wanting the laughter to stop. James only laughed harder. "Ridiculous," Remus muttered, feeling quite put out for some reason. He turned on his heel to leave the bathroom.

"No, no, wait," James sputtered, jogging in front of him. "I need to talk to him. Sirius and I have got something in the works – "

Remus exploded, advancing on James. "Bloody hell, didn't you do enough to Severus before Christmas holiday? If he's involved with the Death Eaters, there's not a thing we can do to stop it. What's it going to take for you two to grow up?"

James was so taken aback by Remus's uncharacteristic outburst that he stopped talking at once. The two stared at each other for several moments, Remus breathing rather heavily.

"Remus, we're not going to do anything to him," James said quietly, rationally. "I told you on the train, mate – and a promise is a promise. Sirius has learned his lesson. And frankly, I have no desire to step anywhere near the greasy git anymore. I don't want to get expelled, with only one more year to go."

Remus, relieved though he was that Severus wasn't about to be tormented again, was only slightly mollified. He shoved past James and headed toward the stairs, muttering over his shoulder, "Whatever it is, leave me out."

He didn't wait for James to protest as he let the door slam behind him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Slughorn's rooms were an uncanny display of opulence and public relations. Remus had never seen so many photographs of famous witches and wizards in one place; they were hung floor to ceiling on each of the walls of the sitting room. In many of the photos, a miniature Slughorn winked as he shook hands with the famous (or infamous) party next to him. Beneath each photo was a small caption educating the reader about the event depicted. If Remus lingered too long over any photo, the miniature Slughorn in the photo would begin talking about the occasion in more detail. Remus quickly learned to keep moving.

Never having had any real experience with small talk, or "networking," as some called it, Remus stuck to the fringes of the room with his glass of pumpkin juice, chatting with the odd person who made his or her way toward the photos, watching the goings on, and waiting for the appropriate moment to speak with Slughorn about Madam Honeyduke. He was fairly certain he had not spotted her yet; she was supposed to be very old. There were several witches and wizards that he didn't know in the sitting room, as well as a few junior faculty members he recognized. He saw several Slytherins, two Ravenclaws, and no Hufflepuffs. Remus was the only Gryffindor in the room, and he didn't know the other students very well. As he scanned the room, he saw a small, chubby boy enter – Peter! He was looking a bit bewildered and searching the room, probably looking for a familiar face. Remus immediately approached him.

"Oh! Hello, Remus," Peter grinned. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"We haven't talked for a couple of days," Remus replied. He didn't want to discuss his reasons for being here just now, in case someone were to overhear them. "James was looking for you tonight, for some prank he's planning. Where have you been?"

"Oh, here and there," Peter blushed. Then he leaned forward and whispered importantly, "Actually, I've been helping Professor Slughorn clean out the cabinets in his classroom. There's some pretty dangerous stuff in there."

So that was how Peter had gotten an invitation. Remus smiled and ushered Peter toward the drinks table. Peter took a butterbeer for himself and surveyed the milling guests. At that moment, Slughorn made his way across the room toward them. Peter's face lit up, but it was Remus's hand that Slughorn shook first when he reached them.

"Ah, Mister Lupin! Mister Pettigrew! So glad you joined us," the professor gushed. "Mister Lupin, I promised I would introduce you to Madam Honeyduke. This way, please. Follow me, follow me …"

Remus looked back at Peter and shrugged as Slughorn ushered him away, and he saw the smile drop from Peter's round face.

Professor Slughorn steered Remus toward a small, round table in a shadowy corner of the room. The dark wooden surface of the table was accented with lighter wood inlaid in the design of an astrological chart. On it was a small wine bottle and an empty goblet. In the center of the table a burgundy candle glimmered. Two high-backed chairs upholstered in a lush, midnight blue flanked the table. In one of the chairs, holding a large goblet of dark red wine, sat a very striking witch.

This couldn't be Madam Honeyduke; the woman appeared to be in her mid-forties. She had thick, jet-black hair, which was tied back with a strip of purple cloth, and her large black eyes were lined heavily with black kohl in the style of the traveling fortune tellers Remus had seen when he was a young boy. She had painted her thin lips a deep crimson; and when he approached she smiled, revealing long, straight teeth. Flowing robes in layers of black and indigo made it difficult to tell where her body actually was beneath all the fabric. Many silver rings adorned her long fingers, and there was a heavy silver necklace around her neck. Each earlobe had three long, silver hoops dangling from it.

Remus was utterly flummoxed.

"Madam Adelaide Honeyduke, meet Mister Remus Lupin," Professor Slughorn bowed obsequiously, gesturing toward his student.

"Greetings, Mister Lupin." Madam Honeyduke smiled, offering her hand palm down, as if Remus should kiss it. The voice was deeper and more resonant than he expected from such a small lady. Her assessment of him was intense as her dark, glittering eyes flitted across his face.

"Hello, Madam Honeyduke. P-pleased to meet you," Remus stammered, taking her hand and shaking it as matter-of-factly as he could manage. Her hand was cold and dry, and the skin felt strangely papery.

"As I mentioned to you yesterday, Madam Honeyduke," Slughorn went on, "Mister Lupin has expressed an interest in research for a cure for the bite of a werewolf. He's quite curious about what your family was able to accomplish."

Madam Honeyduke smiled again toothily at Remus.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Perhaps I'll fetch the chocolates you brought and place them with the other desserts. Or perhaps I'll keep them all to myself," Slughorn chuckled, taking his leave.

"Please, sit," Madam Honeyduke offered, smiling.

"Thank you." Remus placed his glass of pumpkin juice on the table next to the wine bottle and settled into his chair.

"Well, Remus," Madam Honeyduke purred, "what can I tell you?"

Remus had hoped to ease into the conversation, rather than simply jumping headlong into it. He folded his hands in his lap. "Er, let me say first that I in no way want to discuss a topic that would be painful for you –"

"Nonsense," she interrupted. "You are here for information."

Remus didn't know what to say. She blinked her large eyes at him and suddenly smiled again, showing him those abnormally long teeth. He noticed they were a bit yellow.

"At my age, I don't waste time with prologues," she explained.

Remus realized that he would have to get used to her candor, and quickly. "Sounds like a wise plan for anyone," he commented.

She gazed at him and took a sip of her dark wine. They stared at each other for a moment. Finally she raised her dark eyebrows at Remus.

"Oh! Right. Well, then," he sputtered. "Erm, I've looked into what history I can find about lycanthropy, and the attempts to find antidotes or remedies. From what I can tell, the Greybacks invested quite a bit of effort –"

"And money," Madam Honeyduke interjected.

"Er, yes," he blushed, "into the search for a cure. But strangely enough, there is no written record of what they attempted in any of the research journals. No one wrote about it, no one talked about it. I don't even know which witches or wizards were involved in the process."

Madam Honeyduke appraised Remus with a gleam in her eyes. "Very astute," she said simply.

Remus returned her gaze, waiting for more. When it became apparent that no further comment was forthcoming, he inquired, "May I ask why?"

"Yes, and you should," she replied, sipping her wine, her dark eyes never leaving his.

Another moment of silence ensued, during which Remus began to wonder why he had bothered to come visit this strange lady.

"Do you read the _Quibbler_?" she asked abruptly.

Remus groaned inwardly; but, blinking several times, he managed to keep his expression neutral. "No, ma'am, I can't say that I do."

"The old _Quibbler_ was a bit more reliable than the current issues," Madam Honeyduke opined. "It might be worth your while to peruse some back issues."

"Thank you," he said, wishing fervently that he could extricate himself from this bizarre conversation.

"Now I have a question for you, young man," Madam Honeyduke whispered, leaning toward him. Remus leaned forward so that he could hear her. He smelled sour breath and spotted silver streaks throughout her hair.

Finally he saw, all at once in the dim candlelight, the hundreds of wrinkles on her waxen face.

"_Why are you here?_" she croaked.

Her eyes suddenly looked both desperate and threatening, and Remus felt compelled to run. But something told him that now, at last, he was getting somewhere.

"_You know why_," he whispered back, returning her look with one that he hoped was as bold and frightening, not caring what she would make of his reply. The words crossed his lips before he had time to consider them.

Her eyes bored into him for several seconds and, for a time, the noise in the rest of the room seemed to disappear. Then quickly she leaned back and, in a perfectly natural voice, said, "Have a drink." She poured from the little bottle into the other goblet and handed it to Remus.

His fingers closed on it before he could think properly. The musky, nutmeg scent rising from the goblet was irresistible, and he felt saliva bursting forth inside his mouth. Remus kept his eyes on her and took a sip of something acrid and pungent. It was at once the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted and the most horrid. His thoughts immediately became dim and confused; he couldn't seem to formulate a sentence. Licking his lips, still trying to find words, any words, he forced himself to set down the goblet … and suddenly felt a rush of blood to his extremities, a surge of adrenaline such as he'd never felt before. At the same moment he felt bile rising in his throat; he nearly retched, and came close to toppling out of his chair. Everything, everyone in the room seemed more vivid, more fleshy, more … vulnerable. He could see where veins lay defenseless under skin, inferior blood coursing beneath tender human hides. He heard sounds he had never heard in the past: the scratching and tittering of rodents in the walls; the inconsequential conversations of students in their Common Rooms, although he could no longer understand the language, and no longer cared to; the thudding of hundreds of heartbeats, deafeningly insistent in their regularity, begging to be silenced. His own body felt larger, more powerful and defined; and every millimeter of his skin that touched cushion, wood, or clothing ached to feel the wind instead. Muscles cried out to be flexed and stretched … and yet he remained where he was. Scents began to declare themselves inside his nostrils; he began to salivate, wanting to devour each and every thing from which such titillating odors emanated. He was filled with an overwhelming impulse to run, to strike, to slash, to bite. Everyone was only an arm's reach away, baiting him, flesh waiting to be torn. And still, somehow, he remained. His eyes darted around and he gripped the arms of the chair to keep from leaping up in a frenzy. A groan escaped his lips as he struggled, through what seemed like minutes, to maintain control.

Suddenly the woman was forcing Remus to drink something bitter from a flask she produced from her robes. The effect was instantaneous, and he felt his rapid heartbeat slowing, his breathing returning to normal, his hands loosening from the chair. He looked around the room; thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed a thing. Remus glared at the witch in disbelief. What had she given him? Why had he taken it so blithely?

"The goblet held a concoction containing, among other things, human blood," she smiled, watching him with what appeared to be satisfaction.

Remus's stomach heaved. He leapt to his feet and backed away from her, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. His hands found the wall and he began edging away from the old woman watching him inquisitively from her chair.

"Don't you want to know what was in the flask?" she asked quietly.

Remus froze. He couldn't decide what was more dangerous – sitting with a woman who had given him such an enticing, sinister potion, or leaving without knowing what the antidote had been. Slowly, he approached the chair and sat down again, trying to steady his shaking hands.

"How dare you – " Remus began, his voice quivering.

"Haven't you always wondered what it was like when you were in your werewolf state?" Madam Honeyduke asked curiously.

Remus felt all the air leave the room. "Wh-what did you say?"

"If you had been, pardon me, a _regular_ human, the potion would have had no effect on you whatsoever. But you managed to hold yourself in check longer than any werewolf I've ever seen, even the oldest ones. Don't worry. I wouldn't have let you make a scene; it's not my style, as the young people say. I do hope you will forgive me. When Horace told me someone wanted to speak with me about a cure for lycanthropy, I had my suspicions – not many people are as interested in a cure as you and I. But someone – Headmaster Dumbledore, I suspect – has had your Ministry of Magic Werewolf Registry records sealed during your time here at Hogwarts, presumably to protect you from nosy parents. I had to see why I should share the secrets of my family with you. I trust you understand."

Remus was speechless.

"I must say you carry yourself quite well, for a werewolf. And I've met quite a few," she added, almost sadly.

"Madam Honeyduke," Remus whispered hoarsely, finding his words at last, "what did you give me?" He was unable to tear his eyes away from her now, however much he might try.

"The latest research, my dear boy," she replied, with no trace of a smile now. Her face looked old and haggard in the flickering light. How could he have thought she was so young?

"And no," she went on, "we haven't had it published. The first potion I gave you is merely, shall we say, a truth serum for those we suspect might be werewolves. We're calling it Lycanthromorphus. If I hadn't given you the antidote, you might have tried to attack someone. But you wouldn't have transformed."

"And the antidote?" Remus prodded.

"Ah, the antidote," she sighed. "The antidote is not quite the antidote for which you had hoped. It can bring you out of the primitive state you entered when you drank the Lycanthromorphus. But it is too weak to counteract the strength of an actual transformation at full moon. We call this potion Wolfsbane, because that is the key ingredient. But we haven't yet found the right combination of elements."

"Who is _we_?" he asked.

"Why, the Greyback and Honeyduke family trust, of course. We have all the best potions masters working for us. I would think you'd have guessed that we were still looking for a cure, especially since it was Fenrir who attacked you."

Remus was shocked again. "But how did you know –"

"Fenrir's signature," she muttered, tracing the scars on the left side of Remus's face with a cool, tender hand. The look in her eyes was one of intense remorse.

Remus felt suddenly emotional and turned away, watching the people milling about Slughorn's sitting room – people that, moments ago, he had wanted to rip to shreds. He slouched in his chair, feeling as if someone had kicked him in the chest.

"I will tell you what I know, if you are still interested," Madam Honeyduke said in a strangely gentle voice.

Remus slowly turned his gaze toward her, feeling the flickering candlelight warming his face. "How can I refuse?" he murmured.

Madam Honeyduke took a long sip of her wine, which Remus now realized was not the same liquid that she had poured him from the small bottle. She settled back in her chair and heaved a long, rattling sigh.

"Armand and Lavinia had tried for many years to have a child," she began, resting her head back against the chair. "They spoke to seers, healers, and potions masters of varying authenticity to help them with their problem. They even visited some Muggle doctors for a time. Their house was full of amulets and all sorts of devices and potions that were supposed to increase their fertility. They even had some items that simply predicted whether or not they _would_ have a child. Everything confirmed that they would indeed have one child, eventually. But, as they grew older, they became impatient. They sought the help of a Dark wizard and conceived immediately. Lavinia gave birth to a boy."

"Fenrir," Remus breathed.

"Yes. But the Dark wizard had put an unfathomable price on his services. He wanted the child to be given back to him when he was seven years old. If the parents broke the contract, a horrible tragedy would befall them all. When the time came, Armand and Lavinia naturally refused to give the boy up. They went into hiding in a cottage deep inside a forest. No one, not even the rest of the family, knew where the three had gone. Then one day, about six months after they disappeared, they returned to their manor without a word. Fenrir was very ill; clearly, a werewolf had bitten him. The Dark wizard had found them and had had one of his minions attack the boy."

Remus shivered. He couldn't imagine the beast that had attacked him ever having been a small boy.

"The Greybacks then focused all their energy on trying to find a cure for Fenrir. You already know that they hired the best potions masters money could buy. And you would think they had learned their lesson about dabbling in Dark magic. But they were desperate. They tried everything, and they tried it all on their son – against the advice of the rest of the family. The three secluded themselves inside the manor, refusing to see all but the closest family members. Over time, Fenrir became more and more withdrawn from his parents, preferring to spend time in the woods by himself. And eventually he never came home at all. The last time I saw him he was seventeen. He barely looked human."

Madam Honeyduke's eyes were wet, and she was silent for a moment. "I don't have to tell you that ours is a prominent family. It simply wouldn't do to let it be known that the family was falling apart, that Fenrir was slowly and certainly turning into something – something other than human. And that his parents had very probably pushed him into the creature he was becoming. It was our job to pretend to the public that everything was fine at home. It was the Honeydukes who gave reports to the press when Armand and Lavinia were killed."

"Then it – it wasn't a robbery?" Remus felt his chest tightening.

Madam Honeyduke sighed and looked at Remus sadly. "No, my boy," she whispered. "It wasn't a robbery." She took a long sip of wine and set the goblet down on the table with a soft thunk. "It was Fenrir."

Remus's head was reeling. Fenrir had murdered his own parents, then disappeared from the world of men forever. There was another question niggling the back of his mind, one he needed answered.

"Who was the Dark wizard? The one the Greybacks hired to help them have a baby?"

Madam Honeyduke's eyes glittered in the candlelight. Was that fear he saw? "Someone you have probably heard of by now; he has become more famous of late. His name then was Tom Riddle."

"Voldemort," whispered Remus.

Madam Honeyduke nodded. "Who knows what Riddle had planned for the boy when he turned seven. But I have no doubt he is making use of him now, perhaps in a different way than he had intended."

Remus had to know. He leaned toward her and asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Madam Honeyduke looked at Remus for several moments. Finally she leaned forward and said in a whisper, "You might not know it to look at me, but I won't live forever – despite popular opinion to the contrary. Someone needed to know. Someone who might eventually be able to do something about all this. I have it on good faith that you're the one."

"But how –"

"You'll know when the time comes," she smiled. "Don't worry. You've got plenty of time to mull this over." And she winked at him.

Remus stared at her, his thoughts a whirl. He looked away and saw some of the last of Slughorn's guests being escorted to the door. Madam Honeyduke stood up unsteadily, her knees cracking. Remus rose with her, lost for words. The two studied each other for a moment, then she produced a small package from her robes and gave it to Remus.

"Have some chocolate. You'll feel better."


	13. The Werewolf Registry

_Remus's father Owen stood in front of the desk of an official-looking wizard. He had been speaking in quiet tones with him for quite some time now while the man wrote on a piece of parchment. Remus and his mother Rowena stood a step behind Owen. He felt her hand lying heavily on his right shoulder. It was springtime, and surprisingly warm inside the Ministry of Magic; but, as this was his first time here, and they had official business to conduct, his parents had insisted that he wear his nice shirt, tie, and dress robes. His face was slowly mending now; but his left shoulder was still bandaged, and he felt sweat running down his back underneath his hot robes. His parents were dressed up, and they were sweating, too, Remus noticed. His mother pinched his good shoulder, but Remus knew he shouldn't squirm or say anything._

_The man behind the desk looked tired; his eyelids and the corners of his mouth drooped in a sour manner. He was very old, and partially bald, with shaggy white hair that stuck out behind his ears, making him look rather clownish. The man stared at Remus while he spoke to Owen and Rowena, and Remus looked back at him politely, even though the man never asked him any questions._

"_Stand over there, please," rasped the man, pointing to a blank wall. _

_Remus's mother guided him to the wall and placed his shoulder blades firmly against it. She straightened his collar and smoothed his hair, her green eyes meeting his with the smallest twitch of a smile._

"_All right, then. Smile, my sweet," she whispered quickly, backing away to stand next to his father. He saw Owen take her hand and grip it. Somehow Remus couldn't bring himself to smile as he stared at their clasped hands and their white knuckles._

_POP! There was a quick burst of light, and moments later the wizard produced two photographs, in each of which a miniature Remus stood solemnly, looking around and blinking in a daze. The sour man magically duplicated the parchment upon which he had written, then he attached one photograph to each of the two stacks of parchment._

_Rowena brought Remus back to sit on a hard chair between her and Owen. Another few minutes were spent while his parents answered more of the man's questions. Then all three of the adults signed several pieces of parchment in the two stacks._

"_So … that's it for now?" Remus's father said in a peculiar tone. The unfamiliar expressions and voices his parents were using today made Remus feel anxious. "When do we see you again?" _

"_Come back in for another photograph just before its next birthday," the man replied._

Its. _The word echoed in Remus's mind._

_In an instant, Rowena clamped her hands over her son's ears. His father leaned across the desk and had nearly grabbed the man's robes in his outstretched hands._

"_His name is Remus, you old bigot!" Owen muttered in a strangled voice, banging his fist on the desk. "HIS name!"_

_Remus could no longer see the man behind the desk, but Remus's mother was now crying over his head, "How dare you? How DARE you?" He felt her body shaking, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as her hands pressed painfully over his ears._

_A man in some sort of uniform came into the room and bustled the three out, and soon they were back on the street, a copy of the sour man's paperwork thrust into his father's hands. The parchment rustled and rapped with each huge stride his father took, taking them farther and farther from the Ministry of Magic. His mother practically had to run to keep up. Remus's parents didn't speak for several blocks, nor did they attempt to hail the Knight Bus right away. Even though he was really too old at seven to be carried, Remus knew that he shouldn't argue with his mother just now. He watched over her shoulder as the orbs of the unlit street lamps bounced past them in the morning light, fading one by one into the distance as the family marched aimlessly up and down the strangely deserted side streets of London._

Remus opened his eyes drowsily, the familiar feeling of dread still lingering. Peeking through the bed curtains, he saw that the sun was just coming up. The breathing of his dorm mates was still heavy and even, and Remus envied them their slumber. He sat up on his elbows and blearily watched the owls coming home from an evening of hunting.

**----------------------------------------------------------------**

Over breakfast, Remus quietly told James, Sirius, and Peter all about his strange experience with Adelaide Honeyduke, beginning with the story of Fenrir Greyback and his parents. His friends sat wide-eyed and cursing when he described the effects of "the latest research," and they grew somber when he reported that Voldemort, in his pursuit of power, might somehow be using Fenrir to advance his dark cause.

"And Honeyduke said that Voldemort had somehow gotten another werewolf to attack Fenrir when he was seven. I wonder if Voldemort's gotten some of the werewolves to follow him. I know he's working on the giants; that's common knowledge."

The other boys nodded. Everyone was reading every bit of news and rumor that they could get their hands on.

"Remus, we've got to do something!" James burst in an undertone, his brow furrowed. "We can't just sit here. More and more people are being bitten by werewolves these days, and you know it's not a coincidence."

Remus had to agree with James. He looked at Sirius, who was leaning on his elbows across the table. "Are you with us?" Remus asked him.

"Hell, yes!" he whispered, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Peter?"

"Of course. I'm with you," Peter replied quickly, his small eyes darting toward each of his friends.

Remus nodded. "All right. Good. I've got to do some more digging to find out where Fenrir might have gone. Something is telling me that we've got to get into the Greybacks' house."

He couldn't believe he was saying all of this; subterfuge seemed more the penchant of James and Sirius. But he had a gut feeling that there was evidence in the manor that had been overlooked by Ministry officials, if they had even examined the place at all.

"Just tell us what to do, mate," James said, his eyes locked seriously on Remus's. Remus returned the gaze and was sorry that he had snapped at him last night in the bathroom.

"Thanks, Prongs," Remus smiled. "Give me a couple of days."

Just then, the morning owls swooped down on the breakfast tables, bringing mail and newspapers to their waiting recipients. A copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was plopped on the table in front of James; he shared his subscription with the other three boys. Opening it, James scanned the front page as he leaned back on two legs of his chair. While his friend read, Remus chewed his last few bites of bacon and wiped his mouth on his napkin. Peter had pulled out some homework he hadn't finished last night, and now he tried to think of some intelligent-sounding filler to add to his last foot of parchment; in desperation, his scrawl became larger the further down the page he went. Sirius downed his coffee and proceeded to finish tying his tie, crouching down and using an empty goblet as a mirror. James's paper rustled as he turned the page.

"Hello, what's this?" James mumbled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at page three. His chair clunked back down on all four legs and he brought the paper closer to his nose to read it.

"What?" Peter asked, leaning across the table to see.

On the front page, Remus saw another two deaths in the headlines. There had been so many in the past year that James didn't even bother reading these out loud for the group anymore unless it was someone they had heard of or knew personally.

"In broad daylight … " James whispered, chewing on his lip.

"What is it?" Peter repeated.

"Two people abducted from St. Mungo's yesterday," James muttered. Remus thought he saw his friend's hands trembling as he held the paper. "The paper doesn't mention that they were werewolves. What the hell …"

Sirius quickly stood behind James's chair and peered over his shoulder. "Five hooded Death Eaters entered, blah blah blah …"

"Werewolves?" Remus breathed, realization settling on him like a cold fog.

"Bloody hell," Sirius swore, snatching the paper from James's shaking hands. "It's the two we looked after over Christmas!" His eyes met Remus's. "Araminta Drury and Tristan Kimball are missing."


	14. The Quibbler Speaks

Remus spent most of the rest of Saturday in the library looking up back issues of the _Quibbler_. Although he had dismissed her comments about the tabloid at first, he realized that Adelaide Honeyduke must have been hinting at something. She had implied that there would be some useful information there, and he was determined to find it. Why hadn't she simply told him outright?

Remus could not allow himself to stop and consider what he was getting himself into. If Fenrir was now aligned with Lord Voldemort, and if Voldemort found Fenrir useful, then what Remus was planning now was essentially an attack on Voldemort himself. Each time his brain circled that thought, he pushed it away; he couldn't let thoughts of self-preservation interfere now. The sharp increase in werewolf attacks meant something, and Voldemort was the most logical suspect. And if Fenrir was inextricably bound to Lord Voldemort, as Madam Honeyduke thought, then Fenrir must be the werewolf behind the attacks. Remus couldn't strike one and not the other. But what sort of assault could he attempt? How much help would he need? How many lives must he endanger to confront and defeat Fenrir Greyback? How many lives could he save? These questions buzzed in his subconscious and he batted at them like flies. He had to focus on one thing at a time.

He pulled out a year's worth of _Quibbler_ issues. The first few issues merely sensationalized the Greybacks' murders and gave poor advice about how to avoid a werewolf bite ("dangle a sheet soaked in balsamic vinegar out your bedroom window," "sleep with socks on your hands"). He wondered who was paid to make this stuff up.

Finally, in an issue published eight months after the killings, he found something on page five. It was a short article, published by a very young reporter named Lucas A. Lovegood. His photograph made him appear to be all eyes with a shock of light-colored hair on top of his narrow head.

… _Understandably, as the family is still grieving, this reporter was met with a certain amount of hostility when he inquired about the whereabouts of the Greybacks' eighteen-year-old son, the werewolf Fenrir. An attempt to enter the grounds of the Greyback manor was futile, as trolls had been placed along the periphery. The house appeared in some disrepair, yet noises were heard coming from the rear of the home, possibly from the root cellar. Is Fenrir still residing in the Greyback family home? This reporter will wait for the trolls to lose interest and move on, then will re-attempt contact at the manor._

Remus's heart started pounding, and he shuffled through the pages of the next few _Quibblers_. In another issue, he found a follow-up article by the same journalist.

… _The once-grand manor is now in a filthy state, as if someone terribly messy does indeed live there. Evidence of Dark magic was seen throughout the home, and broken potions vials and bottles of firewhiskey strewed the hallways and bedrooms. Of interest was a book in the library, which seemed to contain lists, possibly contracts between young Mister Greyback and various other individuals. It appears that the book is hexed and cannot be removed from the library itself, and this reporter was unable to obtain additional information as one troll still lingers in the vicinity. _

Remus smiled. He felt certain that the reporter had broken into the home to get this information. The next issue offered no more news, however:

… _It is with deepest sincerity that the_ Quibbler _apologizes to Fenrir Greyback and his extended family. Any implication of involvement with Dark magic was pure speculation on the part of one rogue reporter, Lucas Lovegood. Future reporting on any breaking news will be carried out by staff reporters as the need arises._

Remus checked another twenty issues, but found no follow-up to Lovegood's reporting. In fact, there was no mention of the Greybacks or Fenrir whatsoever. _The editor must have been paid off_, Remus thought. _Or threatened_.

After perusing the most recent issue and confirming that the reporter was indeed still employed by the _Quibbler_, Remus went to the owlery at once and composed a letter to Lucas Lovegood.


	15. The Forest and the Lake

On Wednesday morning Remus received a note from Hagrid, the gamekeeper, asking for his assistance in the Forbidden Forest at dusk. So that evening Remus ambled, alone, down to Hagrid's hut. The cold air bit his cheeks, and he wrapped his cloak more tightly about him as he rapped on the large wooden door. Hagrid's hulking form appeared at once.

"Remus! There yeh are. Thanks fer meetin' me tonight. It's gettin' desperate." Hagrid ushered Remus back down his front steps, shutting the door behind him. He wore a heavy rucksack and carried a bucket of something viscous and sweet smelling

"What's getting desperate? What is that stuff?" Remus asked, hurrying to keep up with the half-giant's long strides.

"Oh, this? This 'ere is honeysuckle juice," Hagrid explained, guiding them into the woods. "Near took me forever ter squeeze enough out. Never mind that I had ter import 'em from overseas. Cost the school a right few galleons, too."

"What's happening? Why do you need me?" Remus was beginning to worry about where they were headed, and what creature might face them at the end of their evening stroll. He knew better than to assume that the creature might be harmless.

Hagrid's eyes grew teary and he cleared his throat. "Blasted poachers came an' took one o' the male unicorns from the forest."

Remus stopped stock still. "What?"

"Yeah, poachers," Hagrid said gruffly, pulling Remus by the arm to keep pace. "Killin' 'em an' sellin' their blood an' their horns an' such. It's despicable. As if the Death Eaters weren't bad enough, now we got regular wizards tryin' ter make a sickle like this. Come on, she's waitin' fer us." He marched with renewed purpose, and Remus trotted behind.

"Who's waiting?" he called.

"His mate. She needs yeh." Now Hagrid stopped suddenly; Remus ran into his large backside and fell flat onto the ground. Being used to this sort of mishap in Hagrid's presence, he quickly righted himself and faced the gamekeeper. Hagrid was staring him warily in the eye. "I hate ter ask yeh this, Remus. It'd be better if I brought a young girl along. But, well, I can't rightly ask a girl this sort of question. And yer the best fella fer the job. I know how gentle yeh are with them beasts. Why, you yerself was like a lost little foal when yeh firs' came to Hogwarts –"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Hagrid?" Remus demanded.

"The unicorn needs someone … _pure_ … of heart. If yeh catch my drift." Hagrid blustered on as Remus's eyes widened. "I hate ter even ask yeh, but yeh know your secret's safe with me. You know I never told a livin' soul about yer – well, yer monthly problem. An' I won't tell anyone yer still a – well, a – you know, inexperienced. With the girls, I mean, like. I mean, if yeh are. I only hafta ask yeh out of dire need. That little unicorn needs –"

"All right, all right, stop it! You're driving me crazy with your innuendoes."

Hagrid waited, his bushy eyebrows raised. Remus felt himself blushing as he fumed, staring at the cold ground.

"Lead on," was all he said. Hagrid grinned and clapped Remus on the back, causing another spill, this time onto his face. Remus leapt up and brushed himself off, running to keep up with the gamekeeper.

After a few minutes of brisk walking (and running, on Remus's part), they came to a clearing near a stream. There sat the unicorn, her legs tucked under her, shimmering silvery white in the early moonlight, her heavily lidded eyes half-closed. Dew had settled onto her back like tiny diamonds, and her ribs declared themselves in shadowy gashes along her side. Her knees were covered in mud, and her mane and tail were matted and unkempt. She was practically motionless, barely turning her head as they approached. Air puffed from her nostrils slowly, almost imperceptibly, creating tiny eddies of vapor beneath her muzzle. Remus thought he had never seen anything so lovely and so wretched before in his life.

"I don't know if it's gonna work, but we've gotta try it," Hagrid muttered. "Unicorns mate for life, jus' like wolves, yeh know. But wolves can take a new mate if they need to. Unicorns, bein' so rare an' all, don't have as much choice. But even if they _do_ have another suitor waitin' fer 'em, mos' of 'em'll jus' spend their time pinin' away 'til they're dead."

"That seems a bit counterintuitive for the survival of the species," Remus remarked quietly.

"Yeah, well, tell that to _her_," Hagrid shot defensively. "Sorry, Remus. It's jus' that this pinin' away don't bode well fer her."

"What do we do?" Remus asked.

"Yeh got ter feed 'er." Hagrid deposited the bucket in front of the unicorn's muzzle. The unicorn turned her nose away, shifting slightly and closing her eyes.

Remus squatted on his knees and looked back at Hagrid for a ladle or a bowl. "What'll I feed her with?"

Hagrid sighed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "With yer hands, what else?" He raised his eyebrows again, this time in impatience.

Remus gazed back at the unicorn. She stared, unseeing, at the ground, paying no attention to the young man who crouched in front of her. He thought that he should introduce himself, or say something to her, before trying to feed her. He felt strangely intrusive, as if he were interrupting something precious that he had no right to witness in the first place. He moved closer to her so that his face was close to the creature's forehead. He felt her soft, warm breath on his knees, heard the quiet, regular puffing of air in and out of her nostrils. Her flank shivered convulsively from time to time in the cold, so Remus took off his cloak and gently placed it over the animal's back. Now that she had allowed him to do this, he let his hands remain on her side for a few moments. Slowly, slowly, his hands traveled up the unicorn's neck, into her dirty mane, down her powerful jaws and long face. He held her muzzle in his hands and leaned his own head toward hers until their foreheads were touching. His exhalations warmed the unicorn's muzzle and she blinked twice. They remained like that for some moments, his breath on her face, hers on his knees, until he felt the animal's jaw muscles begin to relax. He stroked her face, from her forehead down to her muzzle, and rubbed his own nose against hers. Somehow it seemed the right thing to do.

Behind him, he heard Hagrid sit down on a fallen tree, which creaked under his weight. Slowly, Remus reached one hand toward the bucket next to him, keeping his face close to the unicorn's, and dipped into the syrupy substance. He brought the honeysuckle nectar to the unicorn's mouth. It dripped onto his knees, infusing the air with a sweetness that belied the sadness and desperation that he felt. He didn't know if it was futile, but now he was determined to try to save this creature from her own bleak intentions.

His fingers waited, poised delicately underneath the unicorn's lips. She did not move. More nectar dribbled between his fingers onto his thighs. With his free hand Remus caressed the animal's mane, her long forehead, her jaw, her powerful breast. Still the nectar seeped through his cold fingers, onto his cramping knees, into the dead, dry earth.

This time Remus plunged both hands into the nectar, determined not to let any spill. He held his cupped hands beneath the unicorn's mouth once more. She had only to open her lips to lick the honeysuckle from his hands, if she would. He pressed his cheek to the side of her muzzle and looked at the creature's body. He thought he saw her tail swish, and his heart leapt. But he remained still, not daring to breathe.

The creature's breath in his hands was warm and wet, and soon his fingers were no longer cold. He turned his face back to the unicorn's, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead on hers.

Her lips parted, and she began to lick the nectar from his hands. Remus began to breathe again. Behind him, he heard Hagrid sob.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

About a half hour later, Remus left Hagrid with the unicorn. The gamekeeper's grateful tears spilled over Remus's hands as he shook them roughly until Remus had to forcibly extricate himself from the man's grasp. Hagrid replaced Remus's cloak with a heavy blanket from his own rucksack and knelt next to the creature, which was now taking the nectar directly from the bucket.

Feeling emotional and not wanting to go back to the Common Room just yet, Remus wandered down toward the lake. The stars were bright, and the crescent moon looked down at him almost benignly. He supposed he should be pleased rather than embarrassed that Hagrid had thought Remus chaste enough to nurse a heartbroken unicorn; but, girls aside, he couldn't help wondering for how much longer he could consider himself innocent. He hadn't felt truly innocent since he was seven years old, since the night of Fenrir's attack. And now that he was considering confronting the werewolf and, by extension, Voldemort himself, he had a strange sense that his days were numbered. Even stranger was the fact that he didn't want to share his fears with James or Sirius or Peter. They couldn't possibly understand. This burden was his alone, and just now he thought he might crumple with the weight of it.

Suddenly Remus saw movement in the lake. Was someone swimming at this hour of night, in the cold, dark water? What about the merpeople, and the giant squid? He felt worry creep over him; quickly, his feet started carrying him toward the shore and his hand reached for his wand. Descending the gentle slope toward the rushes surrounding the lake, he was reminded of the night he was attacked at his grandparents' house. He felt a twinge of fear at the thought, but he brushed it aside.

Finally, through the darkness, Remus saw someone walking out of the shallows toward the tree where he liked to lounge on warmer Sundays. It was a girl, slim and sopping wet; and she was indeed wearing a bathing suit. The girl reached into her bag under the tree, drew her wand, and performed a spell on herself – probably a drying spell, as it was too cold to walk back to the school soaking wet. As he drew closer, he saw the red hair as the girl pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a chocolate colored jumper and wrapped herself in a cloak. It was Lily, and she had just turned toward him. It was too late to pretend he hadn't seen her, so he continued walking, pocketing his wand and trying to will his pulse to slow down.

As Remus approached her, she turned away from him, rubbing her face briskly with the back of one hand.

"Hi, Remus," Lily said, almost too brightly. "What are you doing out here?" She still wasn't looking at him directly. Instead, she squatted down to put her socks and trainers back on, then busied herself with a stack of papers beside her book bag.

"I could ask you the same," Remus replied, kneeling next to her. "Are you sure it's safe to be swimming here alone at night?"

"Oh, I've done it loads of times," she retorted heartily. "It's good for blowing off steam."

"What about grindylows? The giant squid? Merpeople?"

Lily stopped moving for a moment, then shuffled her books and papers again. She laughed sharply, still not looking at him. "Yeah, well. The merpeople leave you alone if you leave them alone. It's fine, really. I'm all right, don't worry." But her voice cracked on the last word. Was she crying? He couldn't see through the curtain of hair hiding her face.

"Lily?" Remus said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She immediately stopped her nervous movements, as if his hand had somehow calmed her. When she raised her eyes, he finally saw the tears on her face.

"I'm such an idiot," she laughed wryly. "Sorry, I don't mean to be crying like this."

"What do you mean? What happened?" he asked apprehensively. He had never seen her so shaken, and she didn't seem the type of girl who cried easily.

Lily sat cross-legged next to the trunk of the tree, and Remus moved closer to her. Still sniffling, she pulled a letter from the stack and considered it for a few moments. At last, she thrust it at Remus, as if she might change her mind if she held onto it one second longer.

"It's from my sister," she confessed.

Remus hadn't known that Lily had a sister, and he looked at her questioningly.

"My parents and my sister are Muggles. I'm the first witch in several generations," Lily explained, wiping her eyes. "Read it. Go on."

Remus looked back at the letter, which had been scrawled in dark green ink onto some gaudy Muggle stationery that had flowers all over it.

_Dear Lily,_

_Don't come to my piano concert that weekend in April. Don't talk to Mum and Dad about it either. Just don't come. You can magic up a cold or something, so why don't you do that. I'm tired of them doting on you. It's my turn now, this is my moment, don't spoil it. And this summer keep your freakish talents to yourself in front of my friends, I don't care what our parents say, it won't be amusing to anyone. I know you're allowed now, but just keep it to yourself. I've met a nice bloke Vernon who is at university, and I don't want you scaring him off, so have a heart for once. If you have any human feelings at all, you will do what I ask._

_Petunia_

Remus couldn't imagine anyone speaking to Lily this way, much less her own flesh and blood. He lowered the letter and sighed. For a few moments he stared out at the water; gas bubbles, floating up from the muck at the bottom of the lake, made little ripples that spread slowly along the surface toward the edges and disappeared. He turned to look at Lily, studying the silent tears rolling down her cheeks, dripping onto her collar.

"I should have known it would come to this, eventually," Lily mumbled, her eyes unfocused, gazing out toward the lake.

The phrases _freakish talents_ and _human feelings_ circled and recircled his thoughts. How many times had people looked at him as a monster, as less than human? And here was Lily's own sister, treating her as a freak, too. He felt angry and protective. He had to choose his words carefully; after all, Petunia was still Lily's family.

"Lily, you realize this letter is rubbish, don't you?" he said, finally finding the words he wanted to say.

Lily shook her head. "No, she's right. My parents treat me like a performing dog sometimes. They never stop, they're so … I don't know … impressed? Proud? Afraid? I don't know what." She sniffled miserably, keeping her eyes on the water.

"Your sister is jealous. She can't help it," Remus began. He reached across Lily's legs to put the letter back on her stack of books and parchment, and he couldn't help feeling the warmth of her body as he did so. Quickly he sat back, forcing himself to focus on her face. "She's older than you?"

Lily nodded, a quick jerk of the head as she continued to cry quietly.

"She's older, and you're supposed to look up to her. But she can't do what you do. And, with as talented as you are, she probably feels like you don't have anything to look up to."

"But I do!" Lily cried. "She's really witty – or can be when she's not upset with me. She's the most organized person I've ever met. She plays the piano like a dream. I could never do that. And she can really cook, I mean Muggle cooking, and that's hard to do. I can't do that to save my life. Lord knows she and Mum have tried to teach me. And – "

"Yeah, but she knows you don't _need_ to do it the Muggle way," Remus said soothingly. "She probably thinks you've got it made as a witch. She doesn't realize how hard it can be. I'll bet she has no clue about what's going on with Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"Remus," Lily exhaled heavily, "I feel like an outcast in my own family. My sister hates me because I'm a witch, and my parents only make it worse. They don't mean to, but they've treated me differently ever since we got the letter inviting me to Hogwarts."

Remus knew all about feeling like an outcast. Lily looked at him beseechingly and he thought his heart would crack in two. He had to find a way to stop those tears from falling, but he didn't know what else he could say to her. Before he knew it, his arm was around her shoulders, pulling her to him. He leaned back against the tree and let her cry into his shoulder, her narrow arm snaking its way around his waist. He felt a thrill course through him at her touch, and he tried to block it from his mind. Remus drew his wand and conjured a small fire in front of them; then he magically sapped the light from it so that it was a faint blue, barely visible to anyone who might be looking from the school.

The warmth of the fire and of their two bodies nestled together seemed to comfort Lily. Eventually her sobbing abated and they merely sat there, watching the blue flames. Her sniffles slowly became smooth, calm breathing once more. Remus was acutely aware of the smell of her hair, like water lilies and bed linens. He didn't want to move, to exhale, to do anything that might cause Lily to stop leaning against him. He was astonished at how comfortable this felt … how _right_. He couldn't imagine Lily with James – he just couldn't – not now, not in this moment. How would James have handled her problem? With jokes and roughhousing?

Lily wiped her face on the back of her hand again. Remus didn't have a handkerchief, so he dabbed at her cheeks with the bottom of his Gryffindor tie. She laughed, a soft, silent chuckle; and he felt his lungs start to empty and fill with air again.

"You smell like honeysuckle," Lily observed. Remus grinned. It took every ounce of willpower in him to keep from kissing the top of her head. Slowly she extricated herself from his embrace and sat back, looking squarely at him through puffy eyes. Her nose was almost as red as her lips. He'd never seen her look as unabashedly beautiful as she did now. "That did my soul good," she told him with a little smile.

Remus smiled back. _Mine too_, he thought.

Suddenly Lily placed one warm hand on his scarred cheek and lingered there for a long moment, looking into his eyes. His heart began to race, but he couldn't move a muscle. Her pupils were large and dark in the dim moonlight, and their faces were very close together.

"Where did you get these scars?" she asked gently.

This was the last question he had expected. He sat silent for many heartbeats, considering. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to tell her the lie he told everyone else who asked, the lie about a tiller accident on a farm.

"One day I'll tell you," he said quietly. And as the thought left his lips, he realized he meant it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Common Room was still full of students finishing homework and chatting when Remus and Lily arrived. Remus sat near James, Sirius, and Peter; and he tried not to watch as Lily disappeared up the girls' stairwell.

To take his mind off his interaction with her, Remus immediately joined his friends' conversation. James and Sirius were planning a prank on the entire Quidditch team for their next practice, and they had finally caught up with Peter and recruited his help. Sirius had somehow gotten hold of a dozen Cornish pixies and had stuffed them into a hollowed-out log just inside the Forbidden Forest. Peter and Sirius would transport the log to the Quidditch Pitch before Monday's practice, then release the pixies once all players were in the air. Remus rolled his eyes, but nonetheless he felt a surge of affection for his friends. He was grateful for the familiar antics and sophomoric distractions.

When the plan seemed to be in place, Remus excused himself for bed. As he ascended the stairs, he absently fingered the bottom of his tie – the tie which, an hour ago, had wiped away Lily's tears. Something had shifted inside him, and he didn't know what to make of it. He was filled with a strange combination of elation and confusion, and he knew it wasn't good. Things suddenly felt complicated. He and Lily had crossed some unseen line – a line he hadn't even known was so near, much less that he would find himself stepping across it. He was certain that James had never gotten this close to Lily, and it made him uncomfortable. He felt responsible for protecting James's feelings – what would James say if he knew that Remus had just spent an hour with Lily, letting her cry? How would he react if he had seen how blatantly Remus had disregarded James's feelings for Lily while his arm was around her shoulders? He felt very ungenerous indeed, and his cheeks reddened.

After changing into his pajamas, he flopped down on his bed and tried to look at it logically. He hadn't planned to meet Lily at the lake; he had simply happened upon her in an emotional state. What was he to do, push her away? Tell her, sorry, I can't listen to your troubles because my best friend is crazy in love with you, even though he acts like an imbecile in front of you? Sorry, not my problem?

And yet Lily had shared something important with him. Why? She could have bustled back up to the school. Why had she decided to stay, to show Remus the letter, to cry in front of him? Was it his fault that James could be an oaf sometimes? Was it his fault that she didn't trust James with her secrets? No, he decided.

But he had to be careful. James, Sirius, and Peter were his best friends, his only true friends in the world. They had bolstered him, encouraged him, put themselves in harm's way for him. If he let anything threaten his relationship with James, both he and James would suffer. But James had Sirius, and the two were even closer now that Sirius was living with the Potters. He would probably lose both friends, and Peter, too, if anything happened with Lily. And Remus would never find as good a friend as James, he was certain of that.

He resolved once and for all to steer away from Lily, because clearly his feelings for her were too strong to keep themselves in check when she was near. With that pledge made, he drifted off to sleep, the smells of seaweed, algae, honeysuckle, and bed linens still lingering in his nostrils …

… _Remus was in a rowboat on the lake behind his grandparents' house. He lay flat on his belly across the seat with his arm dangling over the starboard side, trailing his fingers lazily in the cool water. He was alone, content and peaceful. The sun sparkled on the eddies created by his fingers, their bright reflections making him squint. The water looked like liquid crystal, cool and untouchable; and yet his hand was immersed in it, mapping out temporary designs, leaving no trace. Warm air infused his body with the scents of the lake, fecund and mysterious. His eyes opened and closed sleepily …_

… _and he noticed that he was no longer at his grandparents' lake, but at the lake near Hogwarts. It was nighttime. Stars pricked the black sky, and lights glimmered from the castle. His hand felt something like seaweed wrapping itself tenderly around his fingers. He peered over the side of the boat. Sodden red-orange tendrils insistently wove themselves through his fingers, like a child's string game of cat's cradle. He tried to recognize the pattern, the message, but it was unknown to him. He began to realize that the boat, with him in it, was being pulled by these tendrils toward a small island in the center of the lake. On it sat Lily, alone and waiting, her fiery locks winding wildly into the sky and beneath the water, grasping at constellations, probing the murky water, reaching for him. She stood and watched him keenly, her green eyes brighter than he'd ever seen them, her face smooth and unflinching. He knew she must be the goddess of that little island; he must not approach. Yet she was asking him to come to her. He shook his head. And quick as a flash she dove into the water, submersing herself beneath the waves of her own hair, which even now tugged at him gently …_

… _His hand reached deeper into the water. He couldn't see her. In horror, he felt his hand become clawed, sharp and murderous; he tried to pull it out of the water before she emerged, but it was caught by her hair. Lily surfaced next to the boat and placed a hand softly on his face, her eyes fierce with longing. He finally yanked his traitorous, clawed fingers free from the water and the hair and the game of cat's cradle – but now the hand reached for her smooth cheek and began to trace its own bloody pattern …_

Remus awoke with a start, panting, an unvoiced scream tightening his throat. The bedside clock said four in the morning. He closed the bed curtains and tried to regulate his breathing. Putting his hands behind his head, he lay awake for a long while, miserably thinking of Lily.


	16. Pixies at Quidditch

Saturday morning was a series of frustrations. Nowhere was Remus able to find the location of the Greyback manor. He wished now he had asked Madam Honeyduke; but it would hardly have been polite at their first meeting, and after she slipped him the potions he hadn't exactly thought clearly. Today he had spent two hours in the library searching the Floo Network, but to no avail; Remus acknowledged that it was possible the house had an unregistered fireplace. Irritatingly, for such a prominent family, there was no written record now of where the house actually sat, even though there were articles about the Greybacks' philanthropy almost monthly going back a hundred years in the _Daily Prophet_. _Perhaps the family made the bloody house unplottable_, Remus thought after three painful hours of searching the newspaper stacks and wizard registries, old and new. He could not send a Patronus because, try as he might, he couldn't create a corporeal one; besides which, he had no desire to reveal his identity to Fenrir. And if he did send one, Fenrir would then be able to trace the Patronus's owner to Hogwarts, which could potentially endanger the safety of his fellow students. Finally, in desperation, he'd trundled down to Hogsmeade and attempted to send a bogus letter to the werewolf, just to see if he did indeed live anywhere at all. None of the owls seemed to know where to find him and they refused to take off, impatiently waggling their legs at Remus to remove the message. He left the post office in a huff and stalked back to Hogwarts, talking to himself along the way about possible avenues he might have overlooked.

As Remus walked past the Quidditch pitch, he saw that Gryffindor was practicing. He remembered that today was the day for the prank involving the Cornish pixies, so he decided to go take a look; he could use a distraction. He squinted into the bright white of the overcast sky and searched the stands as he entered the stadium. There were several groups of students who had come down from the school to watch practice. Remus spotted Sirius and Peter halfway up in the stands; with them were Lily and her friend Olivia. Remus's pulse began to race, and he was grateful for the presence of the others so that he wouldn't have to be alone with Lily again. He climbed the steps and made his way across the seats toward his friends.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was high above the field practicing moves, darting and whirling and swooping, batting at each other and feinting. He watched James, a Chaser, use the Sloth Grip Roll; his lanky frame made him look more like a rhesus monkey than a sloth, but at least he didn't seem as close to falling off as he did in the last game against Ravenclaw.

As Remus drew closer, he saw that Peter had begun pacing the rows of seats, winding his way toward the top row. Lily had left Sirius and Olivia and had reseated herself a few rows toward the front. To Remus's surprise, Olivia was now sitting on Sirius's lap and whispering into his ear. Sirius whispered something back and Olivia giggled, tossing her straight black hair with great effect. The two were several rows away from Remus and Lily, and he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Remus stood regarding the couple with some astonishment for a moment. Then he sat down next to Lily, who looked at him and rolled her eyes.

"No one tells me anything anymore," he quipped, glad for a topic of conversation to distract him from his own pounding heart. "How long has this little affair been going on?"

"Since, oh, about fifteen minutes ago," Lily sneered, dripping sarcasm. "But it's a semi-annual crush, which I've had to listen to _ad nauseum_ for the past two years. Thank Merlin she's getting it out of her system. Sirius claims he isn't dating anyone right now, but – "

"I wouldn't be so sure," they both finished, and Remus laughed.

"That's what I've been trying to _tell_ her!" Lily whispered. "But she won't listen to me anymore. I think she's decided it's now or never." Lily frowned.

"Whatever she's looking for, she'll probably get it," Remus mused wryly, leaning back on his elbows on the seat behind him.

"Even love?"

He looked sharply at Lily and saw that she was blinking hard, staring fixedly at the ground.

"Well, that's a good question," he replied carefully. "There's always a first time, I suppose."

"Yeah, right," Lily scowled. "The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, I always say. This is Sirius Black we're talking about, no offense. Don't misunderstand; I love her dearly, but Olivia's not very sensible when it comes to men."

"Are you?" The question was out before he could stop it, and he wanted to punch himself in the face. "I mean," he covered hastily, "you can't really chose who you're attracted to, can you?" _That wasn't much better_, he thought. _Best to shut up now_.

Lily became still, biting her lip. "I think I'm sensible," she said eventually. "At least I try to be." And suddenly she was blushing furiously.

"I'm sorry. That was nosy of me." She probably had no desire to discuss her refusal of James's advances toward her with Remus, one of his best friends. He resolved to shut up for the rest of the day.

"No, it's fine," said Lily. She leaned back, and her elbow briefly touched Remus's before she shifted and pulled it away. Suddenly every sensory neuron in his elbow began to fire, and he registered the feeling with horrified satisfaction. It was a thrill he was powerless to stop even if he wanted to, and right now he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.

Just then Sirius came bounding down the steps and leaned over Remus's shoulder, dangling a flask in front of his nose. Remus reflexively took it; somehow Sirius always had a stash of firewhiskey on his person. "Sit back, folks," Sirius grinned, "and enjoy the show." Peter scrambled down the steps after Sirius, while Olivia sat on the other side of Lily and began whispering to her.

Remus sat up and unscrewed the cap on the flask and took a brief swig, grimacing. He leaned back again on his elbows and offered the flask to Lily, who accepted it. She took a small sip and exhaled harshly, screwing up her eyes, and passed the flask to Olivia. "What about you, Remus?" Lily continued. "What sort of girl are _you_ attracted to?"

_Isn't it obvious?_ he thought, and he felt his cheeks reddening. Fortunately, he managed a suitable parry this time. "Are you trying to set me up with someone? I'm very … difficult."

Oddly, he saw Lily flush again. "I wouldn't do that," she assured him matter-of-factly.

"She's just curious," Olivia giggled after downing a respectable amount of firewhiskey. Lily shot her a look and mouthed something Remus couldn't make out since her face was turned.

As he gazed at the two girls he sensed something creeping through his veins, something unfamiliar yet pleasant, something that calmed his racing heart somewhat. But he couldn't afford to clutch at hope, not as far as Lily was concerned. He took the flask from Olivia and upturned it again. As he swallowed, he saw twelve Cornish pixies shoot upward in front of him toward the swarming Quidditch team.

James was now circling the team so he could better view the ensuing pandemonium, and Remus saw him watching Lily's reaction with a grin on his face. At once the pixies flew into the faces of the players, who swatted and spun and tried to race away. Loretta Roth waved her wand, trying to cast a spell that would disperse the pixies; but two of them tugged on her hand and caused her to drop the wand. A couple of players flew to the ground and stood on the field snickering, calling up sarcastic suggestions to the players still in the air. Finally, Aidan McAdams accidentally flew into a goal post and nearly fell off his broom. At that Lily stood up and glared briefly at James, who still hovered, laughing, high above the field.

"See you all later," she muttered. She quickly descended the steps and hastened from the field. Remus stood, wanting to follow her but knowing that he shouldn't. He looked at Lily's friend questioningly. Olivia hesitated but, after glancing at Sirius rolling on the field in tears of mirth with Peter, shrugged and decided to stay put.

As Lily made her solitary way out of the Quidditch pitch, James flew down and landed roughly on the field, running several long strides before he caught his balance. Remus approached him from the stands and watched Lily's cloak fluttering in the chilly wind as she marched back up to the front gates of the school. James leaned on his broom, still breathing hard, and he wore a strange expression as he watched her go. Was it sadness? Defeat? It was nothing Remus had ever noted on James's face, and it perturbed him.

"I think I'm losing my taste for pranks," James huffed between breaths.

Remus chuckled. James would never stop playing jokes, he was certain of that. James looked at him gravely, which somehow made Remus's snicker turn into a full-blown guffaw. James grinned with him, a wan, lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He shrugged at the ground and began chewing on one of his nails, a nervous action that Remus hadn't ever seen before now. Suddenly Remus's laughter caught in his throat, and he watched his friend carefully. Was James serious?

Dropping his hand, James turned his gaze again toward Lily, her figure growing smaller as the distance between them grew larger. His angular face outlined by the white, overcast sky seemed strangely vulnerable. He ruffled the hair on the back of his head – not in his usual jaunty way, but distractedly, his hand pausing there as if it didn't quite know where to go next.

"What am I gonna do, mate?" James said quietly. His eyes were full of uncertainty as he stared at Lily.

Remus turned to watch her receding figure and felt a heavy sigh leave him. "I dunno, James."

Side by side, the two friends watched Lily until she was out of sight, then began their own slow hike up the hill, leaving Sirius and Peter behind to gather up the pixies and bear the brunt of the Quidditch players' scorn.


	17. Afternoon on a Hill

Remus stole through the Forbidden Forest silently. It was a bit warmer today, although still cold; the sky was pale blue with a few plump clouds dotting the sky. He cast a warming charm on his cloak as he walked, then pocketed his wand, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and pulled on his gloves. It had been five days since his last transformation, and he was just beginning to feel like himself again. He felt blood coursing into his muscles as he walked, loosening them up; and the cold air felt good against his cheeks.

It was March tenth, and he was seventeen years old today. Fortunately, James, Sirius, and Peter hadn't attempted any practical jokes at breakfast or lunch today due to the fact that the three were frantically finishing a huge assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts, four feet of parchment on dementors and Patronus Charms. Remus had eaten his meals leisurely and chuckled at the cursing and scribbling going on around him, answering the questions they hurled at him but trying not to make it too easy for them. They should have done the assignment over the weekend, but they didn't need him to tell them that. Remus always tried to finish his homework ahead of time whenever a transformation loomed ahead; he never knew how he was going to feel afterwards, so it made sense to work harder on the days leading up to the full moon. His friends knew the reason he planned his schedule this way, but it didn't stop them from cursing at him when he got to relax while they panicked over assignments left too late.

Now, after classes, Remus headed alone to one of his favorite spots near Hogwarts. It was a mound of earth the size of a small hill inside the forest, and not many people knew about it. Hagrid had told him that a dragon had been killed and buried there long ago, which explained why the earth was warmer there than on the forest floor. He climbed the mound, and soon he stood on the low summit. The trees around him were short in this part of the forest, and he could almost see the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. He turned around and looked toward the rest of the forest. It was quiet today, and the trees rustled gently in the soft breeze.

He lay down on the ground, placing his gloved hands behind his head as a pillow. From his prone position, he could squint so that the trees on the outskirts of the hill seemed to disappear. He could pretend that he was lying in a vast nothingness, just him and sky and clouds. It was rather a pleasant sensation, although his friends would accuse him of being melancholy. That was probably why he had never brought them here; he wanted this place for himself alone.

Remus stared at a cloud and reflected on the last ten years of his life. Ten years of lycanthropy. _Ten years._ Over a hundred transformations. Sometimes he was astonished that he was still alive. His life seemed abruptly divided between the time before he was bitten and the time since. He could hardly remember what it was like to be carefree, to sleep easily, to laugh without self-consciousness, to have no dark secrets. There was a third milestone in his life, though, when he met his friends here at Hogwarts. They had encouraged him once more to cut loose, to trust, to make fun of himself. Sometimes it worked, and he loved them for trying.

Remus closed his eyes. The heat from the earth beneath him was beginning to warm him up, although it was odd to think of lying on top of a dragon's bones. At one time, that majestic creature had flown above Hogsmeade, hurling fire onto crops and houses, terrorizing the villagers, roasting powerful wizards alive. Now its carcass provided warmth to a gloomy teenaged werewolf. Suddenly a memory burst into his mind of watching television with his grandmother in America during one of his family's many trips outside of England to find a cure. His parents and grandfather had been out, visiting with the shaman of the Native American tribe they were visiting. It was Saturday morning, and there was an old 1950s Bugs Bunny cartoon showing on a dilapidated television set in the small kitchen. Bugs had just met a character called the Tasmanian Devil who whirled and spat and ate and destroyed. All Remus could remember now was one line, spoken by the Tasmanian Devil: "What for you bury me in the cold, cold ground?" His grandmother had hooted with laughter at the character's eloquence and poetry, but Remus had felt sorry for the beast. The Devil couldn't control what he was. Could he?

"Hi, Remus."

His eyes flew open and he sat up. _Lily._ How did she know about this place? Bundled in her cloak, she traipsed up the hill and sat down next to him, breathing hard. His heart had begun its ridiculous hammering again; he wished he could rip it out and hurl it over the treetops. He should probably head back to school this instant. But before he could find a polite reason to go, Lily had reclined on her elbows, looking up at the sky. He saw clouds reflected in her clear eyes and suddenly he thought better of leaving.

"What were you dreaming about?" she asked, still gazing upward.

Remus smiled at her odd question. "My grandmother," he answered truthfully, wanting, in spite of his better judgment, to be near her. "She would love this place."

"Yeah?" Lily turned so that she was leaning on one elbow, her cheek resting in her hand.

"Yeah," Remus replied, hardly hearing his own voice as he looked into her eyes. _Just keep talking_, he thought. "She's traveled nearly everywhere with Granddad. But her favorite spots are ones where there are no people, where you can just sit and 'reflect on your own insignificance within the hugeness of nature,' as she likes to say." He managed a pretty accurate imitation of her sweeping, dramatic voice, if he did say so himself.

"I'll bet she'd love knowing that there's a dragon just underneath us."

Remus lay down on his side and rested his head on his fist, facing Lily. "Hagrid told you, too?"

Lily nodded and looked downward, picking at some dead grass. "This is one of my favorite spots to come and think about things. I sort of feel like the dragon is protecting me here."

Remus felt strangely moved by this confession. He spoke rapidly to cover his emotion. "My grandmother would probably go mental if she knew there was a dragon inside this hill. She's a Muggle."

"Really?" Lily's face lit up.

"But she'd love the view from here, dragon or no," Remus amended, lying on his back once more. "If you screw up your eyes you can pretend you're floating in the sky."

Lily joined him, lying flat on the ground. He didn't see her squint, but he knew that must be what she was doing. "You're right," she said softly.

The two were quiet for several minutes. He became acutely aware of her hand inches from his, her body being warmed by the same earth on which he lay. He closed his eyes, trying to work up the willpower and the excuse to leave before he lost all common sense and threw himself on Lily's body.

"Why don't you show your grandmother this place?" Lily offered. "What do you think she'd say if you brought her up here?"

Remus thought for a moment, a smile forming on his lips. "_I will be the gladdest thing_."

Lily propped herself on her elbow again and faced him. "What's that?"

"Edna St. Vincent Millay. My grandmother loves poetry." Remus gazed into the sky, determined not to look at Lily if he could possibly help it.

"Can you remember the whole thing?" Lily asked.

Of course he could. He recited it quietly, still not looking at her. "_I will be the gladdest thing under the sun, I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one. I will look at cliffs and clouds with quiet eyes, watch the wind bow down the grass, and the grass rise. And when lights begin to show up from the town, I will mark which must be mine and then start down_."

Lily was silent for so long that finally, out of curiosity, he had to look at her. He buttressed himself on his elbow, turning his body towards her again. Her eyes were wet and she was smiling. _Oh, no_, he thought. _This is bad, this is bad, this is bad. Never quote poetry to Lily ever again._ He took off a glove and, with the backs of his fingertips, wiped a tear from her pale cheek, even though he really knew better. His hand suddenly ached for more, so he immediately put his woolen glove back on.

"Remus Lupin, undercover poet," she declared. She blinked and the tears were gone, but the smile remained. Her gaze danced over his eyes and lips, and his pounding heart felt close to leaping from his chest. He smiled back at her, wanting and not wanting this moment etched in his memory forever: Lily with bits of grass in her hair, Lily gazing only at him, Lily waiting (_was she?_) for him to kiss her. He could imagine himself leaning into her now, tasting her smile with his own, his fingers memorizing the cool smoothness of her cheek, the warmth of her neck underneath her hair. If she were any other girl, he could close the distance between their faces and kiss her. It would be perfect.

"Poet, indeed. You've found me out," he said, trying to make his voice sound light as he forced himself to stand. His feet, those trusty soldiers, carried his protesting body down the hill. "Just don't tell anyone," he called over his shoulder, too miserable to congratulate himself for his moral fortitude.

He didn't allow himself to look back to see if she was disappointed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

_**A/N: The poem is "Afternoon on a Hill" by Edna St. Vincent Millay**_


	18. Birthday Wishes

James, Sirius, and Peter cajoled their friend all the way to Hogsmeade. It was two days after Remus's seventeenth birthday, and a Saturday evening; so they insisted on getting him drunk at the Hog's Head Inn. The group had already had a couple of covert shots of firewhiskey back in the Gryffindor dormitory, so the mood was quite jovial during the walk to the village.

The Hog's Head was having a Muggle-style masquerade party tonight in celebration of the four hundredth anniversary of its opening. Sirius and Peter had concocted quite a costume; when they reached the inn, the two would become a centaur, with Sirius as the human upper body and Peter as the horse's hind end. Sirius was wearing a cloak now, but when he reached the warmth of the inn he planned to go shirtless. Peter, however, would have to crouch down underneath his costume and hold onto Sirius's hips from behind; Remus wondered how long that would last before Sirius became irritated by the hindrance. Remus thought Sirius, with his dark good looks, should have dressed as a satyr, or as the god Bacchus himself. Remus noted that Sirius hadn't mentioned Olivia since last week, so he wasn't sure what had (or hadn't) happened there. Remus was often astonished at how quickly his friend managed to disentangle himself from "messy situations," as Sirius liked to call the inevitable end of his relationships.

James was dressed as the vampire Vlad Drakul. He had tried to make himself as scary as possible, with his black hair slicked back and fake blood made from corn syrup dribbling from his lips, but the effect was only marginally successful due to his glasses and untamable hair; he looked like a Muggle punk rocker, Remus thought. All he needed was a pair of plaid pants and some combat boots to complete the effect.

Remus had dressed as the Slytherin house ghost, the mysterious Bloody Baron, whose name as a Hogwarts ghost was known in the village, even if his story was not. Remus had borrowed clothing from Hogwarts storage; some of the house elves had helped him find a suitable velvet coat with large brass buttons, a frilly shirt, short woolen pants, and a ridiculous curly wig. Sirius had thought he was supposed to be Captain Hook, minus the hook. Remus wasn't certain how the Baron would feel if he ever found out that he was being imitated, and he certainly didn't intend to tell him.

As they approached the Hog's Head, they could see that the place was quite crowded with the usual suspicious-looking clientele, as well as a few students they recognized. All the windows in front were open, despite the bitter March weather, to provide the patrons with a little fresh air. The place looked warm and inviting in the purple light of dusk, and they were drawn to the music and the laughter as weary travelers to a blazing fire. Sirius threw open the door, allowing his cape to fly open as well, for effect, and inhaled deeply. Remus saw Sirius's eyes quickly scanning the room, probably making certain his younger brother Regulus was nowhere about.

Upon entering, Remus smelled firewhiskey and butterbeer, pipe smoke, the wood fire, greasy food, and the sweat of many witches and wizards crammed together in conversation, camaraderie, and shady dealings. By the fire, a group of older wizards dressed as Whirling Dervishes crooned a ribald tune that Remus could barely understand because the men were laughing so hard. Remus scanned the pub and recognized only a few Hogwarts students; he figured that most of the students were at the Three Broomsticks, as the Hog's Head seemed to be crowded with locals. Remus wondered if any of Voldemort's cohorts were lurking in the dark corners; he wouldn't have been surprised if there were. There didn't appear to be any Death Eaters present, but one could never be sure. So far there hadn't been any attacks in Hogsmeade; but Remus knew that this security wasn't likely to last.

As luck would have it, a clutch of witches and wizards vacated a booth just next to the open front windows, and James ran to claim it. Remus and Peter quickly joined him, and Sirius inched his way to the bar to order firewhiskeys from the dark-haired barmaid who helped on the weekends. Sirius was undoubtedly putting the drinks on credit, as usual, to keep the firewhiskeys coming; even though Sirius was on the outs with his family, the money, at least for now, was still there. Normally, Sirius's imposed generosity and the pressure to keep drinking would have irritated Remus; but tonight he was willing to accept the gift. Remus felt relaxed and strangely electrified, as if this night were something unusual that he should remember, as if something was about to shift and he had better notice it when it did. As Sirius approached the table, balancing four firewhiskeys in dirty glasses between his fingers, Remus felt quite lucky indeed to have three friends such as these.

"A toast!" bellowed James. "To our favorite furry friend, Remus John Lupin!"

"Hear, hear!" Sirius and Peter cried. The four raised their glasses and clinked them together, then downed as much of the fiery stuff as they could manage. All attempted to keep a straight face, but the watery eyes were impossible to avoid.

More quietly, James continued, eyes twinkling. "May you always have a soft spot to rest your head after the full moon."

"Thank you, James." Remus raised his glass, facing each of the others in turn. "And may I always give my good friends here the honor they deserve. I couldn't ask for better." The friends took another swig of the scorching liquid, managing to retain their composure only slightly better this time.

As the four drank and chatted, they each loosened up in their own particular way. Peter began telling the most risqué jokes, watching to make sure the others laughed; none of them had any idea where Peter had gotten this raunchy material. Sirius was inclined to climb onto the table and make an announcement of his availability, but the others pulled him down, seeing as there were only a few young women in the place; most of the witches were in their forties, at least. Sirius said that age mattered little when it came to love, but acquiesced nonetheless. Instead, he contented himself with listing the qualities of the women in the pub; it was almost as if he were trying to see if there was anyone worth taking out to the woods for a tryst. Remus, usually quiet, became animated and philosophical, regaling his friends with his theories on countering Dark creatures and spells – it was more than defense, he insisted; it was an art. With every pithy comment that Remus made, James was reminded of a popular song, which he then felt compelled to sing at top volume for the benefit of the others.

Night began to fall, and the darkness outside made the lively pub feel cozier in comparison. Many people passed by the window of the inn over the next hour or so, but all at once James leapt up and, with his torso hanging out the window, shouted, "Evans! Hey, Lily!" He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.

Lily approached James at the open window. Remus experienced the familiar stomach lurch; but this time, probably due to the firewhiskey, it was a pleasant sensation. Lily was wearing a long green velvet cloak and hood that offset her red locks beautifully. Her hair was down tonight, Remus was pleased to notice.

"What's going on in there?" Lily asked.

"Masquerade party!" James and Sirius shouted.

"Come in, come in!" begged James. The other three called out their agreement that she should escape the cold. Remus thought he saw Lily glance at him before she left the window to come to the door, and his heart skipped a beat. The other three young men cheered; all were feeling particularly jolly by now.

James stood up when Lily neared their table, and she slid into the booth between James and Remus. Remus inhaled the cold, sweet air that Lily had brought in with her and thought he would pass out with longing; he managed a smile in greeting, hoping that he didn't do or say anything foolish in her presence tonight. James immediately gave Lily his whiskey and Sirius called for another round of drinks. Lily downed a respectable amount of the whiskey and made a sour face, then took another swig for good measure. The boys applauded, suitably impressed. Lily said she had come from the Three Broomsticks, where she had had a butterbeer with friends; she claimed to have been on her way home when the boys waylaid her. Her cheeks were red from the cold; she was practically glowing. Best of all, she seemed in no hurry to head back to school. No one bothered asking how it was possible for her to be "on her way home" while heading in the opposite direction of Hogwarts.

Lily had not dressed for a costume party, so Peter declared that she must be Guinevere, of Camelot. She already looked the part with her flowing green cloak. They all explained about their costumes, and Remus felt obliged to remove his preposterous wig at once. He noticed that Lily kept looking at Sirius's sleek, well-sculpted chest and arms, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. Her appraisal of Sirius's body didn't seem to faze James in the least.

"So the occasion is the four hundredth anniversary of the opening of the Hog's Head?" she asked.

"Ah, no, my dear lady," James replied. "Well, yes, that, too. But more importantly – it is the birthday of our dear old comrade, Remus."

"Well, cheers, Remus!" She raised her glass, and everyone else in the booth did the same. "I'll have to give you your birthday kiss, won't I?" she smiled, her eyes glittering in the table's guttering lamplight.

Remus tried to grin and raise his glass to her in return, but his insides were churning into butter. He wasn't used to flirting, and he didn't know if he could withstand an initiation to the art with none other than Lily Evans. He was likely to make a spectacular fool of himself.

James cut in. "Oy, birthday kiss? Where was mine? Where have mine been all these years?" he pouted.

"It's a new tradition," Lily quickly countered. "Don't worry, you haven't missed anything."

"I have an idea!" James announced suddenly. He looked at Remus's costume and winked at him. "Whoever can guess how the Bloody Baron died, it's a round of drinks on me. And Lily will kiss everyone at this table."

"Wait a minute! Why don't _you_ kiss everyone at the table, James?" Lily fumed, but there was a smile underneath the hard edge. Remus's heart did a somersault.

"If it'll make you happy, I'll do it," James joked, his smile spreading mischievously. "But it won't be pretty."

"Or as fun," Sirius added with a leer, waggling his eyebrows.

"Don't worry," Peter assured her quickly. "No one actually knows how he died."

"Don't be a spoil sport, Peter. Come on, anyone have a guess?" James prodded.

The table was silent.

"Do you know?" Lily asked James.

"Oh, no, I was just wondering. I don't know myself. Ow!" James winced as Lily poked him in the ribs, but he appeared smugly pleased with the physical contact.

At that moment, the wizened barkeep with the long, grey beard brought another tray of drinks and began passing them around; he smiled at Lily as he passed her a firewhiskey. Sirius glared at the old man, clearly remembering that he'd allowed Death Eaters to meet here. Remus figured the fellow probably wasn't given much choice.

"Come on," James prodded. "Someone must have a guess."

"Erm, actually," Remus began quietly, "I think the Bloody Baron wanted to live forever. He was sentenced to death for the killing of a unicorn. The town magistrate had him impaled seven times with the horn. Hence all the blood."

"No way!" Peter crowed.

"Nope, outrageous," pronounced Sirius.

"Wait, let's hear him out," said James hopefully, glancing at Lily as he spoke.

"Actually, that seems to be the most commonly held belief," the bearded barkeep confirmed jovially. The table erupted into cries of disbelief. "How did you hear about it, if you don't mind my nosiness?"

"I, er … One day during my second year at Hogwarts I ran into Peeves – the Hogwarts poltergeist – and he let it slip." Remus grinned ruefully. "Along with a bucket of lake slime." The barkeep smiled knowingly and sauntered back to the bar.

"_What?_" James was incredulous. "Why did you never tell us?"

"Um … never came up in conversation?" Remus ventured.

"Aww, you traitor!" Lily roared, laughing. "Now I have to kiss these perverts! Oops, well, you're the birthday boy, Remus, you're okay," she said soothingly. "But the rest of these clowns …"

The happy group at the table continued to down their drinks, and soon Sirius began singing a song. He claimed that it was written by one of his less illustrious ancestors in the sixteenth century, and dedicated to this very inn. His voice was quite pleasant and resonant, although he slurred several of the words. The ivy he had placed in his tousled hair as part of his centaur costume truly gave him the appearance of Bacchus, and he sang with abandon:

_The boar's head in hand bear I _

_Bedecked with bay and rosemary _

_And I pray you, my masters, be merry _

_Quot estis in convivio. _

_Caput apri defero, _

_Reddens laudes Domino!_

"I know that song!" James cried out drunkenly as Sirius sang. "We sang it at Christmas every year!" In fact, everyone at the table knew the song, from various festivals and gatherings in their past, and they all sang the last two lines of each verse. James took on the next verse, singing in a clear, boisterous baritone:

_The boar's head, as I understand, _

_Is the rarest dish in all the land, _

_Which thus bedecked with a gay garland _

_Let us servire cantico. _

_Caput apri defero, _

_Reddens laudes Domino!_

Lily began clapping in time as James sang. Peter piped in with the third verse, his voice a thin, nasal tenor, his small eyes glistening joyfully. The other boys joined in the clapping, and the singing of the refrain became louder as many of the patrons in the noisy pub began to clap and sing along.

_Our steward hath provided this _

_In honour of the King of bliss _

_Which on this day to be served is _

_In Reginensi Atrio: _

_Caput apri defero, _

_Reddens laudes Domino! _

Remus, feeling warm and happy, fortified by the drink, jumped in with the last verse. His voice was rough at the edges but rang out nicely. By this time, the entire pub was clapping, singing, and hooting.

_The boar's head, I dare well say, _

_Anon after the eleventh day, _

_He takes his leave and goes away, _

_Exivit tum de patria. _

_Caput apri defero,_

_Reddens laudes Domino!_

A wild cheer ensued from the entire pub, and there were several toasts to the barkeep and barmaids, even to the ruddy-faced house elf who peeked his head out of the kitchen for a split second. "To the Hog's Head!" several of the men bellowed. "Nice to see the young ones carrying the torch," a fierce-looking man roared jovially. Remus's group all grinned at each other contentedly, laughing merrily and downing more firewhiskey.

"Lily, sing us a song!" James insisted, his face looking as if it were near to crack in two from smiling.

Lily blushed. "Ah, no …"

"_YES!_" the table exploded.

"Please, for us," Remus insisted. "For me, for my birthday?" He held his breath as she looked at him for a moment, her green eyes reflecting the dancing light from the oil lamp at Remus's elbow. Then she looked away toward the fire, deep in thought, and he felt the breath leave him again. Finally, with a crooked smile, she agreed and another cheer erupted from the boys.

"This ballad is well-known by some of the older people in the wizarding community. It's called _An Mhaighdean Mhara_, which means 'the sea maid' or 'the sea wife.' It was written in Irish, but I'll sing it for you in English. My great-great-great grandfather wrote it. I don't know if it's true, but supposedly he married a mermaid."

"What?" Remus asked incredulously. Was this why she wasn't concerned about swimming in the lake at night? Did she have mermaid blood in her? There was so much he didn't know about Lily, and so much he wanted to learn.

"You're kidding," Sirius scoffed.

"If you don't let me tell the story, I won't sing the song."

They were immediately silent.

Lily took a breath and looked at each of the boys in turn as she revealed the tale. "My great-great-great grandfather on my mother's side, his name was Pádraid Chinidh – or Patrick Kinney, as we would say in English. He was a sailor and a powerful wizard who fell in love with a fierce and unusually beautiful mermaid whose English name was Mary. She loved him desperately, and she agreed to allow him to cast a spell so that she could have two legs and live on land with him. He gave up sailing and they lived for several years in happiness, and had a daughter. But one day, Mary went into the barn and found her magic cloak, her 'skin' – and she knew that she must return to her home in the sea. The song is a lament, between the mermaid and her daughter, Máire. It's my grandfather's words in the first verse, his little daughter's in the second, and the mermaid speaks in the last two verses."

Lily cleared her throat and began to sing in a quiet, clear voice. She kept her eyes closed for the first few lines of the song; but then, emboldened and singing more fully, opened her eyes and stared into the fire. Her face looked rapturous, like a marble sculpture of a saint ascending heaven. The drink had given her glittering green eyes an intense and faraway look, and the boys around her sat transfixed, bewitched. James and Remus stared at Lily somberly from either side. Sirius gathered his cloak around him and watched her serenely, his laurelled head leaning on the back of the booth. Peter clasped his hands on the table and gazed at his fingers with wet eyes. The din of the pub seemed to dissipate as the four listened to Lily's voice:

_It seems that you have faded away and abandoned the love of life_

_The snow is spread about at the mouth of the sea_

_Your yellow flowing hair and little gentle mouth_

_We give you Mary Kinney to swim forever in the Éirne_

'_My dear mother,' said blonde Máire_

_By the edge of the shore and the mouth of the sea_

'_A mermaid is my noble mother'_

_We give you Mary Kinney to swim forever in the Éirne_

_I am tired and will be forever_

_My fair Máire and my blond Patrick_

_On top of the waves and by the mouth of the sea_

_We give you Mary Kinney to swim forever in the Éirne_

_The night is dark and the wind is high_

_The Plough can be seen high in the sky_

_But on top of the waves and by the mouth of the sea_

_We give you Mary Kinney to swim forever in the Éirne_

The boys were silent for several moments. Feeling a rush of cold air from the window, Remus began to shiver. James continued to watch Lily, chin in his hand, his eyes blinking slowly as if she were still singing. Lily, blushing at the tears that had welled up while she sang, glanced awkwardly at the ceiling while she wiped her eyes and laughed.

Coming back to himself, Remus touched her arm lightly with his fingertips. "Lily Evans, stealth chanteuse," he said softly. She caught his eyes in a brilliant green gaze, and they smiled at each other for an instant.

"Well, well, I think we've all got our second wind now," Sirius announced, whipping off his cloak again. "More drinks?" The table jubilantly agreed. "Come on, Peter, let's show off our costume at the bar."

"Wait, wait, these are on me," James winked, handing Sirius some coins.

Sirius and Peter assembled themselves into the formation of a centaur, trotting toward the bar to the applause of the other patrons. Several women eyed Sirius's physique and refined good looks approvingly, and some began to whisper.

As they swigged the last of their old whiskey, Remus, James, and Lily began joking about the amount of homework they were being given by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration. James performed quite an accurate imitation of the last time he was given detention by "that manx, Minerva," as he called her. Remus and Lily were in stitches by the time Sirius and Peter, who had already disconnected himself from Sirius's hips, returned with the drinks. The two had brought doubles for everyone, and Lily groaned.

"This isn't a plot to get me drunk, is it?" she smiled, though it was plain to all that she was already quite inebriated.

"Yes, it is," James said simply. "You've never spent any time with us, and we want to make sure you enjoy it so you'll want to do it again."

The table laughed and toasted again, downing these drinks with more relish than the last round. Soon James was reminding Lily of her obligation to kiss everyone at the table because Remus had correctly identified how the Bloody Baron had died. There were many protests and lots of laughter and prodding, until finally Lily was leaning across the table toward Peter. Peter blushed a bright red and started giggling nervously, which made Lily laugh all the more. She pressed her lips to his, laughing so much that there was scarcely a pucker between the two. They both collapsed backward, laughing hysterically.

"You call that a kiss?" Sirius boomed. "Here, let's show 'em how it's done, love." Suddenly he hoisted himself up, sprawling on his back across the table, empty glasses flying everywhere. The others managed to grab their full ones and down them or place them out of the way. Sirius looked up at Lily from his prone position, arms open wide to the sides, and, smiling rakishly, commanded, "Give it to me."

Smiling and blushing at his semi-naked form, Lily leaned forward into Sirius's upside down face and kissed him once. In a flash, his hands were in her hair, holding her to him, prolonging and deepening the kiss. One of his knees bent and he started kicking the back of the booth, hips bucking wildly. The patrons in the booth behind him turned and glared. James whooped and Peter clapped. Just when Remus started to think it had gone too far, Sirius released Lily; but he kept her lower lip gently between his lips as she pulled away. Lily touched her mouth, blushing intensely now. Sirius plopped back into his side of the booth and watched her face with satisfaction.

"Ahh," Lily scolded, still rubbing her lip and wagging her other finger at him. "Now I see what all the Slytherin girls have been talking about."

"Lies, lies, all lies," he denied with a smile.

"Now Remus!" James cried, and Remus's heart leapt. "The birthday boy!" Evidently James wanted to save his kiss for last.

"I don't know how much of this I can stand," Lily smiled, not meeting Remus's eyes.

"Oh, it – it's quite all right," Remus stammered, realizing that his diction was fairly imprecise at the moment. "A simple handshake will suffice …"

But the kiss cut him off mid-protest. Her lips were supple and met his easily, comfortably, and he found himself kissing her back hungrily. The kiss lasted longer than he thought it probably should have, but he didn't care. He lost all sense of time and place while he inhaled Lily's scent, savored her mouth. He realized his hands were holding her face as she gently extricated herself, smiling, from the kiss. The other boys were vocalizing their approval, Peter punching him on the arm. Remus's head spun as he looked, smiling, into Lily's eyes, their faces only centimeters apart. He had somehow gotten a lock of her hair wrapped around his index finger, and she laughed as she unwound it for him.

"Lady Guinevere?" James purred, slurring. His eyes blazed, but his smile was strangely cautious as he waited for her response.

Lily offered a crooked smile in return, glancing sideways at him. "I don't know about this, James Potter."

"What? Trust me, I won't bite," he grinned, taking her hand at last in his own. Lily tentatively gave him her hand and allowed herself to be pulled toward him. Their lips met and, in his usual over-the-top fashion, James wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him in the long booth. Sirius and Peter erupted into screams of laughter. Remus was forced to watch their squirming bodies from his position next to them.

Then he realized that the squirming was Lily trying to push herself up. She got her bearings and stared down at James. Looking across the table at Sirius, with some of James's fake vampire blood on her chin, she said, "I think he's passed out."

**----------------------------------------------------------------**

Remus and Lily watched through the grimy open window as Sirius and Peter carried James up the road as best they could. James's dead weight and their own drunkenness caused the boys to stop every few feet to readjust. Finally, they heard Sirius bark, "Oh, fuck all!" He fumbled in his cloak for a moment, then raised his wand and yelled, "Levicorpus!" In a flash, James was upside down, his cloak over his head. Sirius was then able to move the body with ease, dragging James manually by his wrist as if he were a balloon. Peter quickly shuffled along behind him, laughing and patting Sirius on the back.

Remus flopped back against the booth with a thump. "Wow," he mused. "I haven't seen him that snockered in a while," Remus slurred. He downed the last of his firewhiskey, no longer feeling the intense burn in his chest he had felt earlier this evening. The cold air coming in through the open window didn't bother him, either. _Probably had a few too many_, he winced. He would be feeling it tomorrow.

Lily turned toward Remus and rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes slowly blinking as she gazed at him.

"You're a bit worse for wear," Remus smiled, indicating Lily's chin, which was still covered in James's fake blood. "May I …?" When she nodded, Remus pulled a frilly handkerchief from the sleeve of his costume and wiped away the syrupy substance. He grinned at her when he was done, marveling inwardly at how satisfying the simple act of touching Lily with a handkerchief felt. He stared at her lips, hardly daring to believe that he had actually kissed her tonight, even if it was just part of a game.

"Hmm …" she sighed. She raised her glass and tilted it back to her lips, then realized it was empty. Misjudging the distance from her mouth to the surface of the table, she put the glass back down with a loud thunk.

"Another?" Remus offered, reaching for the few coins in his lint-filled pocket. _What are you doing?_ he chastised himself. _Shut up, idiot_, he answered.

"Oh, Remus," Lily said cryptically. She raised her eyebrows and smiled the crooked smile that Remus had finally deduced only appeared when she was drunk, and he decided that he loved it almost as much as her sober, symmetrical smile. He loved the sound of his name in her voice, half-sigh, half-declaration.

The clocktower bell rang from further in town; it was half past nine and time for all Hogwarts sixth and seventh years to head back to the school. Third, fourth, and fifth years had to be back by eight o'clock. The bar officially stayed open much later for its local clientele.

Remus felt his cheeks becoming warm and he looked out the window. He could no longer see the forms of Sirius, Peter, and James anywhere on the road. The Hogwarts upperclassmen and a few other patrons began to detach themselves from their drinks and wind their way, singly and in pairs, to the door.

"Shall we?" he ventured.

"Let's shall," Lily replied.

Lily slid herself out of the booth and weaved a bit upon standing, balancing herself with a hand on the windowsill. Remus stood up next, wig in hand; and the room only tilted once, which he took as a good omen. He offered his other hand to Lily, who was wise enough to take it.

"Ah," Remus nodded, "we are halfway there."

Trundling out of the Hog's Head, Lily supported herself with one hand on Remus's shoulder. They walked for a while in silence down the dark road, the other patrons already lost in the darkness further ahead.

"Ugh, this is bad," she whispered roughly. "I'm staggering."

Remus's eyes crinkled. "Yes, but staggering is a sign of _strength_," he declared, sweeping his arm outward dramatically. "Only the _weak_ have to be carried home."

Lily looked up at him and started laughing, a deep, throaty belly-laugh that made Remus's skin break out into goose flesh. He grinned down at her, thanking whichever angel had brought Lily to their table this evening, thanking James for passing out, thanking his lucky stars that he was sober enough to escort her home, thanking the night for being just moonlit enough. Lily's skin was so luminescent that it looked stark white; she was an alabaster ghost in a world of black and grey. Her wildly tousled hair seemed even redder now than in the daylight; her eyes the dark, bottomless green of the sea. Remus willed time to slow down just for tonight, just for their walk back to Hogwarts.

"I didn't know it was your birthday today," remarked Lily.

"Actually, it's not," Remus confessed. "It was Thursday."

Lily stopped and looked at him. "The day we were on the hill. You never said."

Remus shrugged. "It's just a day." He started walking again but Lily stopped him, her hand on his arm.

"Remus. I never gave you your official birthday kiss tonight, did I?" Her eyes were locked on his, and there was a strange determination in them, like the one he'd often seen in Potions class.

"Erm," he managed. _Think of James!_ his voice of reason ordered. But that voice was becoming fainter in the din of his pounding heart.

"I must give you one kiss for each year you have walked this earth," Lily concluded. "That would be ..."

"Seventeen," he supplied helpfully. A thrill of longing curdled in abject terror as soon as the words left his mouth.

Lily smiled. "Yes, seventeen kisses it is, then."

The guilty part of him starting speaking before he could shut it up. "That's – that's hardly necessary. I mean, you already kissed me when –" And her lips were on his for the second time this evening.

"One," she whispered.

Remus was speechless as Lily pulled away, gazing calmly at him. The look seemed to last a full minute while his heart, the little tyrant, thudded inside his chest. Light and shadow faded around him as he stared boldly into her face, wishing he could read her thoughts. Why was she kissing him? He watched Lily's eyes shut once more as her face moved toward his.

"Wait," he heard himself saying. But their lips met, for a second longer this time. Lily pulled back and smiled.

"Two."

Remus's hands twitched. His palms felt itchy and hollow, as if only by touching Lily would they feel complete again. He willed them to remain at his sides.

"It seems that I … I've forgotten to … to say … to do … erm, something …" Remus was fully aware that he sounded like an exceptionally dim-witted troll.

"What are you blathering about, Remus?" There was that crooked smile again.

"I … uh … I really haven't the foggiest notion. Have you?"

"You were about to kiss me back, I think," Lily said simply, her pale face upturned and waiting in the moonlight. Remus could feel her breath on his chin. Somehow his hands were on her waist now. When did that happen?

"I – was I?"

"You tell me." Lily's eyes, so dark tonight, flashed brilliantly, fiercely. How could he have avoided meeting those eyes so many times, day after day? He felt her fists resting on his chest, holding the lapels of his coat tightly. Now Remus and Lily found themselves staring at one another as though they had each accepted some sort of challenge. Why were his words so hard to find? He inhaled, as if by doing so he would manage to say the right thing.

And he kissed her.

Warm exhalations mingled, vapor clung to faces while bodies shivered in the cold. Hands tugged, fingers groped. Thought became simple, singular, uncomplicated. Kisses tolled the seconds and minutes by fits and starts. Smiles created secret cursive messages on mouths, messages decipherable only by taste.

**----------------------------------------------------------------**

After several sublime minutes a cold voice broke the couple apart. "I wouldn't do that, Lupin."

Remus and Lily looked behind them and saw the dark, angular figure of Severus Snape ambling toward them from Hogsmeade.

"You of all people should know she's Potter's prize." The expression on his face was inscrutable: he seemed at once vexed and pleased. Severus cut a wide path around the couple staring at him, still breathing hard, lost for words. They watched as he lazily made his solitary way back up the road toward the school.

"Bloody hell," Lily breathed, her face angry as she stared after Severus's loping form. "Bloody, bloody hell. _Bloody_ hell."

Lily and Remus stared at one another for a long moment.

"Lily, I –" he began.

"Don't," she said quickly, her eyes lowered and her cheeks red. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have –"

"No, no, no, no, no!" he sputtered. "Please, don't think that I didn't want … That I never … I mean, all this time and I –"

"Remus." Lily took his hand in hers. "Let's go home. It's late, and there's no sense in finishing your birthday kiss. Your heart's not in it anymore."

She was right. Remus felt wretched. They gazed at each other for a moment and finally turned to walk back to the school, his hand holding hers inside the pocket of his coat. He suddenly felt stone sober. His thoughts were a blur, but he tried not to show Lily how confused he was. He just wanted to feel the warmth of her hand for a few moments more. They walked in silence, and finally, indeed, it seemed that time, as Remus had so naively wished, had slowed to a crawl. By the time they reached the front gate, they had dropped hands.

One by one, they climbed the stairs to the Fat Lady. "Blubbering buffoon," Remus muttered dismally, and the portrait opened. The Common Room, thankfully, was empty and dark; moonlight striped the deserted tables and chairs, the abandoned homework, and mugs of coffee and pumpkin juice that hadn't been cleared away by the house elves yet.

"Well," Lily whispered. "Good night."

"Good night, Lily," Remus murmured, miserably relishing the feel of her name on his tongue.

They stood for a moment, searching each other's eyes for what to do next.

"Well, get on with it!" the Fat Lady ordered groggily. "Some of us want to get some sleep."

Suddenly, without warning, Lily gave Remus a quick peck on the lips, then dashed through the portrait hole into the Common Room and up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Remus touched his lips with fingers that had been warmed by hers and slowly, automatically, made his way up to the boys' tower. His friends were already slumbering noisily in their beds. Remus fell onto his own bed, still fully clothed in his ludicrous costume and grasping his wig in one hand. He stared at the spinning bed curtains for a long, long time.

**----------------------------------------------------------------**

**A/N on the songs:**

_**-- Sirius sang "The Boar's Head," by Wynken de Worde, English traditional, 16th c. **_

_**-- Lily sang "An Mhaighdean Mhara," composer unknown, Irish traditional, date unknown. This is a beautiful ballad. Go to iTunes and listen to the sample by the band Altan from their album Island Angel. They sing it in Gaelic and it's heavenly.**_


	19. Visiting the Ghost

_"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut." _

Remus's grandfather, his mother's father, was fond of quoting Ernest Hemingway when he'd had too much to drink; now the quote wouldn't stop repeating itself in his mind, mocking him. Gerard and Hortense Shepard were brilliant botanists and crossbreeders when they were alive, and Remus wished they had crossbred a plant to cure the common hangover.

Breakfast was spent mostly in silence as the four friends nursed their headaches and queasy stomachs over toast and coffee. Peter alone seemed cheerful, as he had somehow had much less to drink than the others. James appeared in a foul mood as he rested in forehead on his hand and tore off pieces of dry toast with his teeth, chewing slowly. Sirius, though haggard-looking, was now regaling them all with the story of his brilliant maneuvering of James's unconscious body back to the school last night, which made Peter giggle and snort. James scowled and seemed to be trying to disappear into his coffee cup. His unruly black hair hung low over his eyes.

"Did you get Lily home last night, Moony?" James mumbled.

Remus felt adrenaline course through his body, giving him the sudden, sickly feeling of having missed the last step on a staircase.

"Yes," he answered quickly. "Yes, she got home fine." Remus felt ill, and it wasn't entirely the hangover's fault.

"Thanks," James said, glancing up at Remus. "Tell me the truth. I made an ass of myself, didn't I?" He smiled his lopsided smile and Remus's heart dropped about a foot inside his chest. _How could I have let it happen?_ he demanded for the four hundredth time this morning. _There are some things you can't undo_. _Or forget_.

"No, of course not," Peter soothed. "_I_ was the horse's arse!" He and Sirius began cackling, and Peter punched James's arm until he offered a smile at last, brushing Peter's hand away.

Remus saw Lily's friend Olivia with a napkin full of scones and a cup of coffee, and she glared at Sirius as she passed; clearly that little affair, such as it was, was over. She was probably on her way to deliver breakfast in bed to Lily. Remus would be surprised if Lily didn't know of a potion to lessen the sting of a hangover, but perhaps she was too ill to make it. He could only guess how Lily was feeling at the moment, but he doubted she could imagine the guilt he was now experiencing. He couldn't stop replaying those kisses in his mind, however much he tried. It was sweet torture, though, and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He forced himself to look at James, to remind himself of where his loyalty should lie. In all of Remus's darkest nightmares, he never imagined himself in this position, having to keep a secret from one of his best friends – especially a secret that, hours ago, had seemed so sweet, like an extraordinary dream that needed to be shared to verify whether it was true.

When the owl delivered the _Daily Prophet_ to their table, Remus picked it up, hoping to distract himself from thoughts of self-flagellation. His eyes widened when he saw the front page headlines.

"Adelaide Honeyduke is dead," Remus announced.

"What?" all three boys blurted at once.

"It says here that she died in her sleep. She was a hundred and eighty years old. Honeyduke's Sweetshop is going to be managed now by her niece, Cecelia Honeyduke."

"Was it Voldemort – ?"

"I'll bet he knows that the Honeydukes – "

"Did you tell anyone else about – ?"

"Calm down, will you?" asked Remus irritably, his head pounding. "At Slughorn's she said she wasn't going to live forever; that's why she told me all about the Greybacks. She wanted someone outside the family to know what had happened, to know about Fenrir and Voldemort." Remus stared at the newspaper and considered. "Maybe she was ill."

It seemed that the world was falling apart, and here he sat, eating toast, hung over and useless and feeling sorry for himself. Students were being wooed by Death Eaters, werewolves were infecting victims right and left, people were dying– and Remus sat wallowing in heartache. He made himself sick.

"We've got to get into that house," Remus muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Lost again in his dark thoughts, Remus didn't see Nearly Headless Nick until he was floating right next to him. Nick cleared his throat, a gurgly sound that caused James to retch slightly. The ghost cast a scathing look at James, then turned toward Remus.

"Professor Binns says he has some information for you," he said importantly.

Remus jumped, which made his head throb painfully. "Really? Where is he?"

"In his office, of course," Nick replied. Seeing the quizzical look on Remus's face, he sighed. "Of course, when one of us becomes a ghost, it takes no time at all for people to forget where we lived, what we did for a living, who we loved, how we died …"

Remus cut the ghost's soliloquy short. "Where is his office, Sir Nick?"

"Why do you need to see him? It's Sunday morning, you know," Nick reminded him, cocking an eyebrow. Nick knew as well as anyone that there would be very little traffic through the office of a professor who happened to be a ghost, particularly on a weekend.

"Sir Nick, I wish I could tell you," Remus said in a low voice. The ghost wasn't exactly the paragon of discretion, and Remus knew it. Nick might have seen him transform at some point during his years at school; but until Remus knew that for certain, he wasn't about to volunteer the information. However, Nick looked so disappointed that Remus finally offered, "It has to do with the history of certain, er, _living_ creatures. No offense."

Nick rolled his eyes and his head teetered perilously on its ruff. "No one tells me anything these days."

------------------------------------------------------------------

"I have very interesting news, Mr. Lupin," Professor Binns whispered with almost a smile. It was the most excitement Remus had heard in the ghost's voice in six years. "I shall add this information to my curriculum next year."

Remus sneezed violently, and pain tattooed the inside of his skull. Binns's office, tucked away in a far-off corner of the castle, appeared not to have been entered or cleaned in at least thirty years. Remus had been forced to use an Alohomora Charm to open the door. A thick layer of dust lay on every piece of furniture; and although Remus sat down gingerly in the brocade chair facing Binns's desk, he still managed to release clouds of dust into the stale air. He tried to cough gently, but his cranium throbbed rhythmically nonetheless. The candle sconces were so wrapped in spider's webs that they looked like plump cones of spun sugar, but grey and unappetizing. As he looked about the tiny room, he saw cobwebs veiling the tall bookshelves and paintings on the walls. Remus could not read the titles on any of the books that sat pinched together floor to ceiling. Normally he would long to wipe their spines and peruse them, but at present he was receiving Morse codes of stabbing pain every time he turned his head, thanks to the sneezes and the hangover. Remus had never seen Professor Binns inside this office or anywhere else on the Marauder's Map, and he wondered where the ghost went when he wasn't teaching his classes. Did he have a home elsewhere? A family? Certainly his family was dead by now; perhaps the ghost was haunting someone else's home now during his off hours.

"What did you find, professor?" Remus asked quietly.

"Hysteria." Professor Binns appeared almost pleased, and he actually nearly waggled his misty eyebrows as he said it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, Mister Lupin, unfortunately I was not able to uncover a single example of record-keeping on werewolves. That has been one function of the Ministry of Magic for quite some time, and the records are relatively sealed at the moment. Although, given the current climate, I do wonder how long that will last."

_You're not the only one_, Remus thought.

"I searched everywhere for unofficial records of attacks, records not under the lock and key of the Ministry. I spoke with old contacts of mine, men of the cloth, who work in various churches where they often kept good documentation of local goings on – births, deaths, marriages, illnesses, and so on. I reconnected with an expert on ancestral records. I visited a reknowned authority on magical creatures who specializes in werewolves. Not to brag, but I also happen to know several politicians and town leaders and councilors. I must say they all looked a bit haggard when I visited them … a bit … insubstantial …" Binns trailed off, his brow knitted.

Remus had long suspected that the ghost didn't actually realize he was dead, so he quickly pressed him to continue. "But this hysteria you mentioned?"

"Ah, yes. Hysteria of great magnitude. It happened from 1520 to 1630 all over Europe. We knew about the werewolf trials, in which innocent people were tried and put to death for imagined lycanthropy. But I never realized what the real werewolves were doing during that time." Binns paused, almost dramatically. Remus wondered vaguely why the professor couldn't manage to inject this amount of enthusiasm into his regular class lectures.

"What _were_ the werewolves doing?" asked Remus.

"_Killing other werewolves_."

Remus felt his stomach flip over and the blood drain from his head. He was very glad he was sitting down or he might have passed out.

"Wh – why?" His mouth was suddenly dry.

"The true lycanthropes were convinced that if each killed his or her own attacker in a ritualistic way, or by using the correct potion or a certain series of spells, they would be freed of their affliction."

Did he dare to hope? Remus's heart began to pound and his breath became shallow. "And were they freed?"

"On the contrary. These otherwise law-abiding men and women were saddled with the knowledge that they were now cold-blooded murderers as well as werewolves. There are records of strings of suicides following each spate of murders. There was some speculation that the blood bond between the attacker and the victim grows stronger if the victim kills his attacker. I don't know if there is any truth to that. But what I _do_ know is this …"

Remus swallowed and waited, hearing his own thudding heart inside his skull.

"Survival of the fittest applies to the werewolf community, just as it does to any other species."

"What do you mean?" Remus's voice was barely a whisper.

"Before the hundred-year murder spree, I can only but imagine that somehow the, er, _scent_ of the lycanthrope must have been stronger than it is today. That, and the ability of the victim to locate his attacker must have been more honed then, perhaps a primal hunting instinct that has since weakened. Otherwise, how would the victims have been able to find their attackers when entire lynch mobs couldn't always locate a werewolf with any reliability?"

"Go on," Remus muttered, not liking where this line of reasoning was going. His lips felt numb.

"And there are old tales prior to this massacre, tales of some werewolves being cured by hearing someone say their given name three times, or by sustaining three blows on the forehead with a knife, among other things. Perhaps these were real magical cures at one time … but they are no longer effective."

"Really." His voice sounded hollow.

"So the natural werewolf population, if you will, dwindled low indeed during that span of one hundred years. Diminished, but not demolished. Of the survivors, who would be left?"

Even over the dim roar of blood in his ears, Remus knew the answer to this question. He answered it automatically, as if he were in class. "The strongest. The fittest. The ones who couldn't be tracked. The ones who left no trace. "

"Exactly! And the infection those werewolves would spread would be a more resistant strain of lycanthropy, as it were. This sheds a whole new light on the relative quality of today's werewolf population. It's delightful."

_Delightful_. _Exactly_.

Remus stumbled toward a dusty garbage bin sitting beside the ghost's desk and vomited.

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_**A/N: Leave a review and you get to hold Remus's hair back while he barfs (ah, every fangirl's dream …). Better yet, leave a review and I'll get him out of this queasy situation!**_


	20. A New Beginning

Remus was so discomfited by Binns's speculation that today's werewolves were a stronger, fitter lot that he hadn't even mentioned it to his friends. What could they do about it, anyhow? He was terrified that he wouldn't be able to track down Fenrir at all, that the werewolf would attack again and again and leave no trace, a super-monster who was constantly a step ahead of the people who might be able to stop him. Remus's one comfort was that he, too, was probably part of that more resistant strain of werewolf; after all, Fenrir himself had made him. Perhaps Fenrir wouldn't sniff out the fact that he was being hunted. And perhaps, if he ever did track the beast down, Fenrir wouldn't be able to recognize Remus as one of his own – although that was unlikely, given the set of scars on his face. _His signature_, Madam Honeyduke had said.

With a frown on his face, Remus traced his circuitous thoughts round and round again as he ambled down to Herbology on Monday morning. He tore his gaze up from his shoes; and suddenly, with a jolt, he realized he was trailing Lily on her way to the greenhouse. She was halfway down the hill already, walking at a furious pace, her book satchel bouncing madly on her hip. He slowed his pace, realizing that he had no idea what to say to her yet. He desperately wanted her to know that she wasn't to blame, that he had been drawn to her since the day they met, that he had wanted to kiss her since their third year. But that same year James, in his uncannily bold way, had made his feelings known unequivocally, practically _claiming_ her for his own – even though Lily seemed to have no interest in returning his feelings.

Remus wished he could hate James. He wished that James were a cad, who dated girls and tossed them aside as often as Sirius did. But James, for all his bravado and flirtation with several different girls, had never had more than a dalliance with any of them. "_It's Lily for me_," James always said. Remus sighed.

He watched Lily's hair swinging in its ponytail as she trotted toward the greenhouse. Was she trying to avoid him? That would certainly make things easier. But the thought of not speaking to her made Remus as miserable as the thought of having to talk about what had happened. Her red hair glinted in the morning sun as it whipped from side to side. Suddenly, Lily slipped awkwardly on the wet grass and her bag fell to the ground, books scattering everywhere on the grass.

"Bollocks!" she cursed, throwing her hands into the air. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at the books as if they were supposed to crawl back into the bag of their own accord. She drew her wand, preparing to replace the contents of the bag magically. Then she turned her head and saw Remus coming down the hill.

_It's now or never_, Remus thought as he continued walking toward her. Her wand dropped as she waited for him, her expression unreadable.

Remus dropped his own book bag when he reached her. "Hello," he smiled nervously, bending down to gather her books, which were damp now from the wet ground. He was glad to have somewhere else to focus besides her eyes.

"Hello," she said, strangely formally. She squatted next to him to gather some sheets of parchment and shake them out. They moved in silence for a moment, Scourgifying the dirt from her books and placing items back into her bag. Finally they both spoke at once.

"Listen, I didn't mean to –"

"Lily, I want you to know –"

They stopped, blushing, each staring at the ground between them as they knelt in the wet grass. Remus steeled himself and decided simply to tell her the truth. "Saturday night was wonderful."

Lily's expression softened into one of relief. "Really?" she asked. "I expected you to hate me. I made a fool of myself."

Remus hadn't quite expected this. Was it just a mistake? Would it have made any difference who was walking her home? Would any drunk and heartsick bloke have received those sweet kisses? Of course. She was only drunk. Why else would she have kissed him?

"No. No, you didn't make a fool of yourself, not at all," he said cautiously, feeling his heart slipping toward his gut.

Lily sat back on her heels. "Remus, I want you to know something," she said directly, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I know James still likes me, and he's your best friend. You probably feel horrible right now. And that rips me to pieces, knowing that I put you in that position. Believe me when I say I don't take this lightly." She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, as if this were the one statement she needed to say and now it was done.

Remus wasn't sure what to make of this. "I believe you," he probed.

But she wasn't finished. She blinked several times and went on. "I just – I mean, I thought –" Lily suddenly was flustered. "What I mean to say is that I wanted to kiss you, but I wanted you to want to kiss me _back_ and I didn't want you to have to think about James. _I_ didn't want to think about James. I just– I just –" Tears welled up in her eyes, but she cleared her throat and went on. "I just wanted to kiss you, Remus!" She met his eyes boldly, almost daring him to contradict her.

Remus's heart swelled, which only seemed to compound his misery. He struggled for a moment to find the right thing to say. "I … I wasn't thinking about James," he admitted, squinting into the sun behind her.

They sat in silence for a moment. He didn't want to say too much; he had already gone too far. He bit his lip, determined not to utter another word.

"Okay," said Lily, cutting the silence. "Erm …" She looked around awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. Her brow was knitted, her pretty mouth curved into a frown.

Suddenly words spilled out of him. "Listen, Lily," Remus blurted. "If James weren't my best mate …" Lily's eyes swept over his face. "If things were different …" He sat back on his heels and looked down toward the forest, feeling defeated, not daring to look into her eyes a moment more; he was losing his resolve. "_If_, _if_, _if_," he breathed, each word a curse.

He stole a glance. Lily watched him quietly, her lips pressed into a straight line.

Remus inhaled and decided to offer what he could. He even managed a smile, which he hoped was rakish rather than pathetic. "If things were different, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If things were different, I'd be walking down to Herbology with you, with the goofiest grin on my face, daring anyone to ask me what I'd been up to."

Slowly, Lily released her pinched lips into a sincere smile; it faded quickly, however, and she regarded him for a while, her eyes searching his face. Sighing, she picked up her bag and stood up, brushing the grass off her knees. Remus grabbed his book bag and rose, as well. The two faced each other, and after a moment Lily nodded.

Turning toward the greenhouse, they began walking down the hill together. "Me, too," she agreed, softly.

Suddenly Remus grinned, a grin that stayed on his face as he entered the greenhouse and dropped his bag next to the long table. Lily wandered around to the opposite side of the table where Olivia waited, wearing a scowl. Sirius was already in the greenhouse, studiously ignoring Olivia as he prepared the work space he shared with Remus, James, and Peter. Seeing Remus's smile, he raised an eyebrow.

"What have you been up to, mate?" Sirius asked.


	21. Lucas Lovegood

The following Saturday morning Remus trundled down to Hogsmeade alone. It had snowed the night before, and the grounds were pristine and quiet; there was a hush in the air that made the titter of every bird seem a loud and sharp intrusion upon nature itself. Remus's were the first footprints leading from the school down the road to the village, and he watched his booted feet sinking into fluffy whiteness with each step. The sun grazing the stark landscape made him squint in the bright morning light, and he pulled his cap lower over his ears to keep the frigid air at bay. He would meet his friends at Zonko's Joke Shop later, but first he had a meeting at the Three Broomsticks. He had gotten permission from Dumbledore to leave early so that he could get there on time.

Lucas Lovegood, Remus had discovered, was not high on anyone's list at the _Quibbler _these days; it was doubtful that anyone would become suspicious of any meeting the journalist scheduled. After the Greyback murders, Lovegood had been shunted off to write about things like cook-offs and dog shows. Now, fourteen years later, the reporter had worked his way back up to writing about fantastic beasts and such, and he was part of the personnel department in charge of hiring. Therefore, when Remus had written to him several weeks ago, he had implied that he was interested in a job at the _Quibbler_ so that no one would become suspicious if the owl were intercepted. Lovegood had responded immediately in writing, but this was the first weekend that the reporter had been free to meet him in Hogsmeade.

As Remus walked, listening to the regular crunching of his boots in the snow, he felt again the comfort that only being alone with his thoughts brought him. For a time, he merely watched the warmth of his breath as it hit the air and became vapor. But eventually his traitorous thoughts dragged him back to the memory that had plagued him night and day ever since the night of his party at the Hog's Head. He shook his head and walked faster. After his talk with Lily on the way to Herbology, he had tried to shake off the whole experience; and, to her credit, Lily seemed to be doing the same. They were friendly and cordial with one another, but they never allowed themselves to be alone together or to mention again that night on the road. Whether Lily's discretion was out of respect for Remus's wishes and his friendship with James, or because she had come to the realization that she had simply made an error in kissing Remus in the first place, he would probably never know. Lily didn't know that Remus was a werewolf, so that wouldn't have deterred her if she actually did fancy him – which Remus found more and more unlikely upon consideration. Remus certainly wasn't a handsome, unpredictable charmer like Sirius; nor was he a witty, athletic force of energy like James. Why on earth would she want to date Remus with those two around?

Remus had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to suffer for his mistake, shouldering the guilt without the relief of a confession; that was the least he could do, after all. He didn't want James hurt with the knowledge of his betrayal, and he trusted that Lily would not tell him. Even so, the awareness that Remus had crossed that line ate away at him, albeit a little less each day as time passed. Maybe one day, when the jaws of guilt released him, he might feel whole again. Perhaps he could look at James and not feel a twinge of shame; perhaps he could talk to Lily without a pang of regret and longing.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, was another story. Would he use what he had seen that night to trump James? Or to get revenge on Remus for the near-attack in December? How could Severus prove that anything had happened at all? Remus couldn't allow himself to worry about this; there was nothing he could do. Besides, if Severus were indeed becoming more involved with the Death Eaters, he probably had more important things on his plate at the moment that meddling in a secret love triangle. Remus smiled wryly, considering how ludicrous it was when he really thought about it. _How can you be so self-involved?_ he chastised himself.

At last Remus found himself shivering and panting at the door of the Three Broomsticks. He stomped the snow off his boots outside the door, then thought better of it and performed a melting charm. He entered the tavern. Only a handful of people were inside, and Remus quickly spotted a man sitting alone in a booth facing him. He removed his cap and approached him.

Lovegood appeared to be in his early thirties. He had large, pale blue eyes; and his blond hair, which had been haphazardly combed straight back, was receding prematurely at the temples, creating a steep widow's peak. The hairline, along with his sharply raised pale eyebrows, gave him a look of perpetual surprise. He was muttering into some sort of device which Remus saw, as he approached the table, resembled a small, handheld Wizard's Wireless. The gadget hung on a cord tied around his neck, and he pressed a button down as he spoke into it. Was it recording what Lovegood was saying? Remus stood next to the table and was about to introduce himself, but couldn't seem to find a moment to do so because the man continued speaking into the handheld device as he assessed Remus from head to foot.

" … The young man appears to be in his early twenties, although he must still be at Hogwarts, as his school uniform seems to indicate. The tie tells me he's in the house of Gryffindor – not nearly as good as Ravenclaw, but what the hell. There are circles under his eyes, and he's rather thin. Perhaps he wants me to buy him breakfast. We'll just see about that." Lovegood clicked off the device and stood, extending a hand toward Remus. "Hello! Lucas Lovegood, the _Quibbler_."

"Er, hello, Mr. Lovegood," Remus replied, shaking the reporter's sweaty hand. "Remus Lupin, erm, sixth year Hogwarts student."

"Excellent! Sit down, sit down. I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast?" Lovegood eyed him suspiciously but not unkindly.

"Er, no, I ate before I left school. Thanks."

"I have already supped, as well," Lovegood responded. The two sat and faced each other across the table. The reporter's bulbous blue eyes reflected the white sky penetrating the window behind Remus.

"May I buy you a cup of tea? Coffee?" Remus offered. He had brought a few coins with him, as he could never resist buying a few sweets from Honeyduke's; it would be strange, though, going there knowing that Adelaide Honeyduke was dead. However, Remus thought the money might be better spent winning Lovegood's confidence, as the man seemed to be rather a cheapskate.

"Coffee? Never drink the stuff. Makes me jittery," Lovegood replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Well, then – "

"Butterbeer, perhaps. Yes, that sounds divine," the journalist concluded, blowing into his hands to warm them up.

Remus ordered tea and a butterbeer, trying not to contemplate what rudeness would allow a man with career and a salary to permit a teenaged student to buy him a drink.

Remus could only assume the dark, buxom woman behind the bar was Rosmerta's mother, or perhaps an aunt; the resemblance was too uncanny. Rosmerta, the owner of the establishment, was an attractive young woman whom all his friends not so secretly coveted. She wouldn't be in at this hour, he was certain. Remus thought of her dancing dark eyes and imagined that Rosmerta would much prefer to be around when the carousing started later this afternoon. What vibrant young woman would want to serve the breakfast crowd if she could avoid it?

The matronly woman set the hot drinks down in front of them, and Lovegood absently slipped her some coins, apparently already having forgotten that Remus had offered to pay. Remus shrugged and pocketed his sickles once more, thanking the older man for the tea.

"So, why again are we meeting?" Lovegood asked. "I wrote it down somewhere but evidently I've misplaced it. Those dastardly office elves, you know."

Remus couldn't help but smile. Lovegood clicked on his gadget once more, and Remus quickly asked whether he would mind terribly if their conversation remained "off the record." Lovegood's face fell, but he acquiesced. He confessed that he never could remember what had gone on during the day without recording it.

Remus told Lovegood that he had read the brief articles about the Greyback murders and was curious if he had uncovered any other information after his last report. He explained that he hadn't wanted to ask him in an owl about the Greybacks, since they were a prominent family and very connected to the powerful Honeyduke family, as well. Remus didn't mention the increase in werewolf attacks, or his conclusion that Voldemort might somehow be behind them; he might be paranoid, but, like many others, he figured the less he said out loud about Voldemort the better, especially in a public place.

The blank look Lovegood wore, however, made Remus feel a bit concerned.

"When was this? Are you certain it was me?" Lovegood asked, sipping his butterbeer and leaving a wet mustache across his lip.

"Yes, quite certain," Remus confirmed, wishing now he had brought copies of the articles as proof. "The _Quibbler_ had you reassigned after you wrote those articles. Apparently the Greyback and Honeyduke families were rather upset."

Lovegood still stared. Remus shifted uncomfortably, fearing that this might be a dead end. Then Lovegood started muttering to himself and blinking furiously, as if by fluttering his eyelids he might somehow page back through his memory archives.

"Hmm, Greyback, Greyback, Greyback. Werewolf. Fenrir Greyback. Both parents murdered. Robbery? Kid disappears. Hmm."

While Lovegood searched his scattered memories, Remus prodded him with other key elements of the reports. "There were trolls patrolling the grounds. You found a book in the library that you couldn't take with you because it was hexed. It had names, perhaps contracts, in it. You thought you head noises coming from the root cellar – "

"Aha!" Lovegood's index finger stabbed the air with a flourish. "That's it! The root cellar!" His victorious gaze fixed solidly on Remus, then drifted out the window as he became lost in whatever memory that phrase had triggered. His eyes darkened and the surprised look disappeared as his eyebrows dropped. He wiped the butterbeer mustache from his lip and pursed his lips, thinking. His eyes flitted to Remus once, twice, then back to the window.

"That cellar had a stench," Lovegood said quietly to himself, still gazing out the window at the bright sky. His brow furrowed, almost involuntarily, it seemed.

Remus's stomach lurched. He could only imagine what the stench might have been, what those cloudy eyes might have seen there in the cellar. "I'm sorry," he heard himself saying.

"I remember," Lovegood said, although he shook his head as if recollection were the last thing he wanted. His large eyes raked Remus's face briefly.

Remus had to ask. "Did you see Fenrir?"

"No, no. Just the – the evidence of his having been there. Bones. Other … things." Lovegood took a huge swig of butterbeer. "That was enough."

"Did the Ministry of Magic ever – er, _process_ the – the evidence?" Remus hated to pry such delicate information from the journalist, but there was no avoiding it. He certainly couldn't expect a straight answer from the Ministry itself.

"To my knowledge, no official ever set foot in the home once the parents' bodies were removed from their bedroom. Nothing appeared to have been touched by law enforcement. Certainly not the cellar. The family probably paid someone off."

"And the library?" Remus's palms began to sweat.

"It was in a filthy state. Books were strewn all over the floor. Trampled. Old food sat on the desk. And a book. That book." The surprised look reappeared as Lovegood raised his eyebrows again. "Huh," he said quizzically.

"What?" Remus urged. "Was it a list of victims? Contracts between Fenrir and –" Remus glanced about and lowered his voice " – and someone else?"

"I think it was a calendar of events. Scheduled events. Or events that had come to pass. What could that mean? There were lists of names, yes, but dates, as well. Hmm."

Remus waited for him to go on.

"I paged through it. It was relatively brief, and I wanted to record everything in it before leaving. But just then a troll shattered the library window and started climbing through it. So I took the book and let myself out the back door. As I passed through the door, the book flew out of my hands and sailed back down the hallway toward the library."

Remus sat back and considered this information. Perhaps Voldemort or the Death Eaters had given Fenrir lists of names of people, and dates when he might best attack or kill them. But why would he keep that list in a book – to keep track of his victims? And why would he go to the trouble to place a spell on the book so that no one could remove it? Why not protect the entire house? Was the book that important?

The two sipped their drinks in silence for a moment. More people slowly trickled into the Three Broomsticks, and the place was becoming livelier. Remus was grateful for the presence of the others; he was feeling decidedly spooked and didn't fancy the thought of being too alone just now.

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Can you tell me anything else about Fenrir Greyback?"

Lovegood looked at the ceiling and pondered. He pondered for quite a while. Remus watched him patiently, taking several sips of tea while he waited. Remus reflected that Lovegood was probably the same age as Fenrir, and suddenly he wondered what the werewolf looked like. Finally Lovegood brought his milky gaze back to Remus.

"It may not have anything to do with anything – "

"That's all right," Remus encouraged. "I'll hear whatever you have to say."

"One of my classmates was Mathilda Honeyduke. I had a bit of a crush on her, I must confess," Lovegood smiled, blushing. "Her cousin was Fenrir Greyback. Of course, he wasn't allowed at Hogwarts. They don't allow werewolves, you know."

"Ah," said Remus.

"After we graduated, when the murders happened, I looked her up, since the rest of the Greyback and Honeyduke family wasn't very, er, forthcoming. Mathilda and I had a lovely friendship while at Hogwarts. She was in Gryffindor," he scoffed, "but what the hell – "

"And what did she tell you?" Remus probed, trying not to sound anxious.

"Well, only that she didn't think very highly of her aunt and uncle. She disagreed with their whole – what did she call it? – _approach_. Yes, she thought their approach was all wrong."

"How do you mean?"

"First off, the Greybacks rejected everything about Fenrir's affliction. Really, about Fenrir himself. They isolated him. They didn't let him play with other children. He only saw older family members once or twice a year, at Christmas and perhaps his birthday. Mathilda herself never saw Fenrir after he was infected, although they had been playmates before then."

Remus himself hadn't had many playmates after he was infected, either; but it wasn't for his parents' lack of trying. Once a potential friend's parents found out about his condition, they invariably severed the relationship. The Lupins lived too far from Muggle towns for Remus to develop any friendships with Muggle children. Remus's first real friends had been James, Sirius, and Peter, whom he had met his first day at Hogwarts.

Lovegood went on. "The Greybacks tried every possible cure they could muster. They never left it alone, never let him forget what he was. They tried things that were painful and probably poisonous to Fenrir, Mathilda told me." Here he leaned closer to Remus and whispered, "She hinted that they tried Dark magic, too."

Remus cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.

"But while the Greyback parents isolated Fenrir from everyone else, they never let him out of their sight. Mathilda told me that they watched his transformations, each and every month, to make certain he didn't somehow dig his way out of that cellar and hurt someone else."

Remus, feeling ill, downed the rest of his tea quickly and stared at his fingers interlaced around the cup. His own parents were always nearby at the full moon; but they never, ever watched him transform. They told him when he was older that they knew he might feel vulnerable or embarrassed if they saw him in his animal state, and they wanted him always to know that they respected his privacy. For his part, Remus was grateful that they allowed him to endure his most grotesque moments alone; he didn't want them to think of him for one second as his werewolf counterpart.

"Grisly conversation for such an early hour, eh?" Lovegood remarked, shuddering. Then his eyes locked on Remus's. "Have you considered becoming a journalist? You have a very trustworthy face. Why on earth I let you dredge all that stuff up, when I was apparently doing a remarkable job of forgetting it …"

Lovegood trailed off and began rummaging through a worn leather satchel sitting on the booth beside him. He rooted through it for quite a while, and at last he produced a small datebook.

"What's the date?" Lovegood asked absently.

"The nineteenth of March," Remus replied.

When Lovegood thumbed through to the date, he gasped. "I'm late! I was to meet Mrs. Fitzgerald twenty minutes ago. She says she may have spotted a Crumple-Horned Snorkack on her family's Shropshire estate!"

And with a pop, Lucas Lovegood Disapparated in front of Remus without so much as a goodbye.

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As planned, Remus met James, Sirius, and Peter at Zonko's Joke Shop just before lunchtime. When at last they exited the crowded store with their pockets emptied of several sickles, carrying sacks of dungbombs and nose-biting teacups and other sundry items, he quietly told them all about his meeting with Lucas Lovegood. As the four sauntered toward Honeyduke's Sweetshop, they discussed how they could locate the Greyback manor, as Lovegood had disappeared before Remus could ask him where it was.

Just as Remus opened the shop door, Lily, on her way out, nearly bumped into him. She carried a large sack of sweets in her arms; and her friend Olivia was behind her, apparently still angry with Sirius, judging by the daggers she shot him.

"Hello," Remus mumbled, somehow managing a smile as his heart did a tumble. He held the door while the two girls slipped through under his arm. Unable to help himself, he inhaled as she passed, almost tasting her now painfully familiar scents of bed linens and water lilies.

"Hi," Lily replied, flushing. She smiled briefly at Remus and the other boys as she continued past them toward the street.

"Sweet tooth?" James joked.

"These are for my parents," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the foot traffic. Olivia followed with her own small bag of treats, trotting to keep up.

James hastily counted out some coins and, thrusting them at Remus, asked him to buy him some Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs. He would see them back at school. Then he rushed into the busy street after the girls, calling, "Evans! Hey, Evans! While we're here, how about a drinking contest? I'll let you win again … "

Remus entered the crowded sweet shop with Sirius and Peter, but he discovered that his craving for chocolate had suddenly disappeared.

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_**A/N: Is this the end of Remus and Lily? Can this author resist such an appealing romance? Leave a review and find out …**_


	22. The Wolf Triumphant

_I'm a ghost_.

Remus gazed blankly into his Defense Against the Dark Arts book, blinking slowly.

_Just a withered old ghost whose body is still here, for some unfathomable reason._

He was alone in the Common Room. Sunlight seeped through the windows, warmed the back of his neck, made him sleepy.

_Whom should I haunt?_

A vision of Lily's face shattered his morbid thoughts, and he tried to remove it by shutting his eyes. Her face burned, if anything, more brightly behind his eyelids.

_You deserve a better ghost than me, love. But I'll kiss you in your sleep, if that's what you want. Give you all the nightmares you desire._

He kept his eyes closed. The only sound he could hear was his breath hitting the page in front of him.

_Oops, still breathing. Must not be dead yet._

He heard a scraping sound and opened his eyes. As if on cue, Lily stepped through the portrait hole. Remus felt himself lowering his book to his lap. He stared at her, too weary to pretend to be immersed in his studies this time. He had no energy to consider the thumping of his heartbeat; his entire being was consumed by staring at the girl across the room, the girl he hadn't been alone with in two weeks, the girl he couldn't be alone with at all. She gazed back, ran a hand self-consciously through her windblown hair. Shifted to one foot, then the other. Waiting, perhaps. Perhaps. He thought he could smell the freshness of the outdoors, as if she had brought it in with her. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had.

Remus felt the specter of a smile slide up one side of his face. Lily smiled briefly and lowered her gaze to her shoes, hugging her books to her chest. She crossed the room to the girls' staircase. Without shame, he watched her every move, drinking her in, feeling alive for the first time today. She disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell. The moment she was gone, a sudden wave of sleepiness overtook him again and he dropped his head back on the rear of the couch. His drooping eyes were half crossed as he stared at the wrought iron candelabra above, watched it blurring itself into a blackened soup.

_Gone again_. _Dead again_.

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"You've been moping around for weeks," James pronounced. "We are going into Hogsmeade tonight, like it or not."

The friends had joined Remus in the Common Room and now reclined on couches and chairs, each pretending to do homework. Remus stared dazedly at the same page he had tried read an hour ago. All he wanted to do the past few weeks was sleep. Sleep seemed a good way to occupy his time and keep his thoughts from straying to Lily. Strangely, he had been sleeping very soundly, even during the last few nights, the nights leading up to tonight's full moon. It was early afternoon now; even so, he thought he could fall asleep right now, if he let himself. He wondered vaguely if he was depressed.

Remus sighed. "There's no 'like' about it, Prongs. I won't remember it, remember? Hogsmeade is for _you_ chaps, not me. You can herd me there if you like, but don't think it'll make me happy. It makes no difference where I am."

"Sod off, you old pisser." Sirius dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Speaking of which, why don't we all get drunk first?"

Peter piped up, looking alarmed. "We tried that once, last year. Remus nearly sliced your arm off. Could have done if James hadn't kicked him away."

"Oh. Was I that drunk?" asked Sirius, his eyebrows knitted. "Why would I not remember that?"

"You were pickled," Peter explained. "Drunken werewolf plus even drunker dog equals one bad idea. I tried to tell you."

"Doubtful, but all right. If you say so."

"So why the long face, Moony?" James prodded. Suddenly his face lit up and he grinned. "Are you in love?"

"Aha!" Sirius said, leaping up from his horizontal position to thrust a finger in Remus's face. "That's it!"

Remus's heart thudded limply, trying to exert some of its old fervor, but he would have none of it. "Look, fellows," he droned, lazily pushing Sirius's finger away. "I'm going upstairs. I'll never make it tomorrow if I don't sneak a nap now."

James furrowed his brow. "You all right, mate?"

_Other than pining away for the only woman I'll ever love in my entire worthless life?_ Remus worked up a half-smile. "Yeah, fine. Just need to close my eyes for a minute."

"You are so boring it astounds me. I'm going to write a book about you and fill in all the missing juicy parts," Sirius stated.

"Knock yourself out," Remus muttered, shuffling to the tower steps.

"Meet you at the Willow thirty minutes before moonrise," James said. "We'll walk to Hogsmeade and transform there." Remus nodded. They no longer had to relate specific times to one another; everything was in terms of when the full moon would appear. It was understood.

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When Remus awoke, it was fifteen minutes before moonrise. How had he overslept? He shot out of bed and stepped into his shoes, immediately throwing open his trunk and glancing at the Marauder's Map to make certain no one was near the Whomping Willow or on the road to Hogsmeade. At this point, they might not have time to make it all the way there. He slammed the trunk shut, leaving the map where it was. Forgetting his cloak, he ran downstairs. No one was in the Common Room. He tore through the castle and rushed outside.

His friends were not at the Whomping Willow yet. If they didn't show up, he would enter the Willow and go to the Shrieking Shack alone. But they had never stood him up since they had become Animagi. They were always with him during the full moon.

Minutes passed. Daylight began to fade. Finally he conceded that he would have to use the Shrieking Shack tonight. He found a long stick and prodded the knot that would open the tree near its roots and let him in. He automatically stepped toward the tree; but the opening did not appear and the tree swiped at him, nearly knocking him flat. He leapt out of the way and staggered back a few steps.

Remus frantically prodded the knot again with the branch, but the Whomping Willow kept swinging at him. He dodged another large, knuckle-shaped branch and stood helplessly on the grass, breathing hard. He had, of course, left his wand in the bed tower; he wished now he had it with him, although what spell could possibly help him he had no idea. He couldn't Apparate from here to the Shrieking Shack; Apparating was impossible on Hogwarts grounds. There wasn't enough time to run there, and he had no broomstick nearby.

What had happened? What sort of magic could undo Dumbledore's charms on the tree? Where were his friends? They could have circled him during the transformation, as they often did, then traveled with him into Hogsmeade. He knew he couldn't pass the night in the Forbidden Forest – Hagrid would be there all evening, still tending to the recovering unicorn. And there were too many people in Hogsmeade to risk going there without his friends to keep him in line, even if he had time to get there.

The sky was growing indigo, and his brain raced. He had to slow his thoughts, collect himself. There had to be a way. If only there were another safe place, a place like the Shrieking Shack, where no one could get inside. He turned toward the school and stared at its massive figure hulking like a hunchbacked beast in the growing twilight. _The Room of Requirement_, he remembered. That was his only hope, and he had to get there quickly. He bolted full-speed toward the front gates.

Remus's heart shuddered as he spotted an all-too familiar figure sauntering down the hill toward him with a book bag slung over her shoulder, her copper hair shimmering in the last of the day's golden light: Lily. _Gods, not now_. _Let me be a ghost, let me be invisible_. He tore past her, glimpsing confusion and worry on her face as he pitched himself up the hill.

"Remus, what's wrong?" she called.

Remus didn't respond; but soon he heard he running after him, calling his name, her book bag knocking rhythmically against her hip, hopefully slowing her down.

"It's nothing! Stay away!" he shouted, still running pell-mell, his mind focused on his destination.

Now he was through the gates, running past staring and harrumphing portraits, darting around students, leaping up shifting staircases. He only had minutes, he was sure, to reach the hallway where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung. He nearly knocked into a small boy cutting around a corner, but he managed to dodge him so that the boy only dropped his books with a cry of indignation. Remus ran on; the hallways had never before seemed so long, his legs so slow.

At last he reached the tapestry on the seventh floor; thankfully, no one was in the hall. He paced three times, as he had seen James do last year when he was looking for more books containing unusual hexes and curses to use on Severus. As he paced, he concentrated on what he desperately needed. Just as the door appeared behind him, he heard footsteps running down the hallway. Remus whirled and saw Lily dashing toward him, cloak flying, the dead weight of her book bag having been discarded somewhere along the way.

"Something's happening. Are you sick? What's wrong?" she demanded, her hands catching his shoulders.

"Lily, get out of here! I can't explain!" Remus warned, pushing her arms away wildly. She flinched but resisted as he tried to shove past her.

The dim, torch-lit hallway seemed to be growing brighter, Lily's face more vivid and defined: it was beginning.

"What's happening to your eyes?" she whispered apprehensively, putting her hands on his chest to keep him from advancing further. Remus felt the familiar fear and rage welling up inside him, harbingers of the change. It was too late. He had to get inside the room and shut Lily out.

"_I said GO!_" he commanded, taking her wrists in his hands, his voice a dangerous growl that he didn't recognize. He was losing awareness; he had to get away from her. But suddenly he was shoving Lily against the protesting tapestry, pinning her there with his arms, his legs, his body. Without knowing what was happening, or why, he began kissing her roughly, deeply – and he felt her kissing him back with wild abandon, her hands now on his face. She was willing, she was submitting herself to him; and this sharpened in Remus a strange and powerful urge. He ripped the cloak from her neck and it fell to the floor with a rustle. His fingers plowed over her skirt, her blouse, the thin wool and cotton that offered such meager protection from his hands, his mouth, his teeth …

Lily cried out and shoved Remus backward; and he hit the opposite wall with a hard crack, his head rattling against the stone wall. Her white blouse was torn at the collar, and she rubbed the skin where her shoulder met her neck. Cringing against the tapestry, she stared wide-eyed at Remus and slowly raised her wand.

The first spasm wracked his body, and he nearly doubled over. His last fragment of consciousness led him toward the doorway, which he felt centimeters to his right at his fingertips. He leapt through the door and slammed it, hearing dull hammering from the other side as his guttural howl began.

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_**A/N: Many hits, embarrassingly few reviews! Can someone help me with this problem?**_

_**The Greyback storyline is on hold during the next few chapters. I'll leave it to you to figure out which subplot I'll be focusing on …**_


	23. The Room of Requirement

A human voice called.

_A girl. A girl in the forest._

Hours had passed. It was nearly daybreak, and the creature was no longer alone. It loped easily toward the sound of the human voice, getting close enough to smell and see her, but not close enough to be seen.

The female called out again.

_Sweet … and familiar? A girl, but not a child. A young woman. Fearful sweat. Pungent, musky, feminine odors. Succulent flesh. Totally alone._

Another shout. The girl was scanning the darkness through the trees, overlooking the creature completely.

_Take her. Devour. Possess. Kill._

The creature was beginning to salivate. It ambled closer, closer, through the copse of trees. Fresh, bloody wounds glinted on its limbs but did not hinder its progress toward its quarry. The girl saw the creature, finally, and screamed. Quickly she raised her wand in front of her. Her breath quickened to a fevered pace. She seemed rooted to the spot with fear, as so many of the creature's playthings had been, though those were smaller animals, not for killing, not human. This would be so pleasant, such a treat, at last.

_No_. The creature paused, one paw in the air. It cocked its head and slowly began to circle itself, almost as a dog chases its tail, searching in vain for the voice that had commanded it to halt, sniffing for another werewolf, some other creature that somehow spoke its language. Confused, the creature continued circling; it began to growl and snap at itself.

The girl backed away gracelessly, panting, her glazed eyes darting around for escape, her wand shaking; but the creature, now whimpering, had forgotten her. The girl hesitated and stared into the creature's wild, green-blue eyes. She faced the beast with fearful curiosity, her wand slowly steadying in her hand.

The moon was gone. The darkness in the forest was turning grey, and some color began to appear on the ground. The creature howled, a furious, reverberating cry; the girl shrieked once more but stood her ground, her wand trained on the beast. The creature bounded away into the trees, to hide, to prepare for the pain. Yelping and snarling, it tried to find a safe place, but the transformation had already begun. It cowered, shivering, under a large tree and braced itself for the mindless pain and the loss of awareness, not knowing but loathing what it was about to become.

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"… _Remus! … Remus!" _

Over the buzzing in his ears, Remus slowly began to register his own name, and a sobbing voice. Someone was kneeling next to him, hands on his naked back. Remus felt moisture and dirt covering his body, sweat saturating the hair hanging in front of his eyes, his forehead on the mossy ground. His arms were covered in the scratches and bites he often gave himself when he was alone in his transformed state. He felt something dripping onto his back, little splatters of what felt like warm summer's rain. He tried to push himself up on his hands to turn to see the person next to him, but only managed to turn his head to one side. His eyes darting in a spasm, he saw only a flash of a girl's black lace-up shoes and black woolen stockings above them. He felt a cloak being thrown over him.

"Who …? Who …?" Remus began shaking uncontrollably. His entire body quaked, and his dilated pupils wouldn't focus. He felt himself being rolled over onto his back, the cloak being pulled over him. He weakly tried to push the cloak away; he was burning alive.

_Friend or foe, friend or foe?_ The mantra from his boyhood chewed into his mind unbidden. "Who is it?" he managed hoarsely through his chattering teeth.

"Remus, it's Lily."

_No._ He felt his own hands covering his face as the shaking intensified. _No, no, no, no, no._ Hot, uncontrollable tears squeezed their way out of the outer corners of his eyes, running down into his ears. He tried to roll over, away from her, but could barely bend his legs. _Where are James and Sirius and Peter? _he wondered wildly. _Why did the Whomping Willow not let me in?_ It was all coming back to him, painfully. He was in the Room of Requirement, because he knew that Hagrid was working all night in the Forbidden Forest. His stomach lurched as another realization struck him: _What did I do to Lily last night?_

Remus felt Lily's hands around his back, pulling his naked body toward her. She held him tightly. The warm rain, somehow, was falling onto his neck now. Remus heard a soft, quavering humming and realized it was Lily's voice. She was humming a tune, something he thought he remembered from his childhood. He weakly tried to push her away with both hands, but she held him fast, rocking him slowly and gently. Remus couldn't stop his tears from falling, and soon Lily's white blouse was soaked with his tears, smeared with his blood. Then, very, very gradually, the blessed numbness started to set in – the numbness that, in the past, before his friends were there to help him, had always helped him to regain his mind, his sense of self after having been something else. His eyes looked at nothing as Lily continued to rock him on her lap. Slowly – it seemed like hours – the quaking of his body subsided. Still Lily held him tightly, silently, as motionless as a statue but for her breathing.

Finally, Remus felt himself being lowered to the mossy ground. At last he could make out Lily's face; it was streaked with tears. He saw an angry red mark on her neck, where he had sunk his human teeth into her last night just before transforming. The skin wasn't broken, and she appeared to have no other injuries. A hot well of shame bubbled in his throat. Lily was pushing the hair out of his eyes, away from his cheeks, and her tender countenance made him wince.

"Lily, don't."

"Shhh."

Remus felt a deep embarrassment, a powerful remorse that he hadn't felt in years. He couldn't look at her. "Lily, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're touching a beast. I'm a beast, nothing more." His voice shook and he couldn't seem to control it. He squirmed under the touch of her hands on his face, too weak to evade them. "I'm cursed. Go away."

"Stop that nonsense," she said simply.

"I _am_ a beast. I hurt you. And I could have … it could have been ..." He swallowed. "You must have seen the transformation," he whispered, looking into her eyes. His pupils were still rather dilated, and he could barely see her for the relative brightness of the faint sunlight behind her. Her form looked as if a halo surrounded it, as if Lily herself were eclipsing the entire sun.

She stopped smoothing his hair back and gazed at him. "Yes, I saw you change just now," she murmured. "But you … you are no beast." She faced him directly, with no fear or uncertainty. Remus turned his head; he couldn't bear her gentle gaze.

Lily placed a cool hand on his cheek and gently turned him to face her again. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," she assured him throatily, silent tears rolling down her face again.

They looked into one another's eyes for a long moment and Remus felt himself wanting to believe her, to believe that it would be all right, to believe that she trusted him and knew him for the man he was, not the creature he became under the tyrannical stare of the full moon. He didn't want to move from this spot; it was as if some force kept him looking into her eyes.

Lily traced the deep scar above his left eyebrow, the thin one along his left cheek, the faint slash over his upper lip. "You did promise you'd tell me where these scars came from."

"I did." His strength slowly returning, Remus took her hand in his to stop her touching him. "But not like this. Not like this."

"Well," she said with finality, "what's done is done."

Remus's mouth twitched wryly. He didn't deserve her absolution, but he somehow felt that he needed it desperately.

Lily drew her wand and quickly performed healing charms on all the bites and scratches he had given himself last night. Then she began to survey all the old scars on his lean, sinewy body – wounds no women but his mother and a few Healers had ever seen before. She placed her hands on his torso and began to touch each place gently, as if hoping to wipe them away with her fingers. Remus watched her, wanting to stop her; but he felt strangely comforted by her touch. Lily leaned over his chest and kissed the old gash on his left shoulder – Greyback's bite – then the continuation of that scar right above his heart – where Greyback had torn the flesh.

"Lily –" Remus began.

Lily placed one shaking hand gently over his lips to quiet him as she kissed another scar, then another. She kissed each scar on his chest, and her tears dripped onto his body, warm and salty. Resolutely, she moved toward the scars on his torso and Remus felt a shudder ripple through his core. His body trembled under the insistent pressure of her lips, the trickle of her tears; but he wasn't worthy of this attention, this tenderness.

"Lily, don't pity me," he cried desperately.

Lily raised her head and looked at him curiously, intensely. "This isn't pity."

"Then … what is it?" he whispered.

Their soft breathing was the only sound, their blinking eyes the only movement for a long minute. Finally, Lily curled herself around Remus, her wet face in his neck; and his arms encircled her narrow waist of their own accord, as if they belonged there. Remus looked up at the canopy of trees, where the pale light of the enchanted sun sharpened the edges of the naked branches above. He could almost imagine that this was a real forest, not the Room of Requirement. He could almost dream that this moment, tender and sweet, would never have to end. He started to feel quite peaceful and drowsy. Closing his weary eyes, he decided to surrender to the feeling.

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A deep, booming bark broke him from his reverie. Remus knew that bark. Lily sat bolt upright and stood up at once, looking for the source of the sound, drawing her wand and bracing herself. Remus quickly assured her, "It's only Sirius." Lily stared at him, perplexed. He wrapped Lily's cloak more closely around his body and pulled himself, stumbling, to his feet.

At that instant, a large black dog leapt through the trees and Lily shrieked. Remus placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "It's all right." The dog had clothing in its mouth, which it dropped to the ground at Remus's feet. It sniffed the air for a moment, looking at Lily and Remus in turn. Suddenly, it morphed into a young man – Sirius Black.

Sirius looked warily at Lily. "Hello," he said curiously, as if he had just stumbled upon a small kitten stuck in a tree. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Remus's blood on her white shirt, the torn collar, the red mark on her neck.

"It's okay, Sirius. It's _my_ blood. She's not hurt," Remus assured him.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded, ignoring Remus. "You weren't here last night."

"I came to help Remus," Lily replied, still holding her wand, a look of pure astonishment still frozen on her face.

Finally Sirius's eyes moved from Lily to Remus. He spoke softly. "Are you all right, mate?"

"Yes. I couldn't get into the Whomping Willow. The knot wouldn't respond."

"I know," Sirius replied, picking up the clothing from the ground. "After you went upstairs, James, Peter, and I went down to borrow some butterbeer from the kitchen. We tried to meet you before moonrise to go into Hogsmeade, but we got waylaid by Filch on our way out of the castle. He thought he smelled butterbeer on us and he managed to delay us until a few minutes after the moon was up."

"Argus Filch, the man with the worst timing I've ever seen," Remus said wryly.

Sirius's went on passionately, his eyebrows knitted. "I'm sorry we weren't there, mate. We shouldn't have gone for those butterbeers. Filch wouldn't have had anything on us except for that. Believe me, he came out of nowhere. But even so, we figured you were safe, that you had probably gone on to the Shrieking Shack alone. I mean, Dumbledore trusted the tree – and you – enough to let you start using it last year without supervision, right? We figured if Dumbledore placed the charms on it, then there was no way in hell that tree would ever fail. But when we finally got there we couldn't get in, and you were nowhere in sight." His eyes darkened and he spoke with venom. "I reckon we know who's responsible."

Remus shook his head, wanting it to be a horrible mistake.

Sirius glared at him. "Come on. Who do we know who has a grudge that deep?" He thrust Remus's clothes at him.

Remus frowned as he took them. The two friends were silent as they studied each other. "I suppose you're right," Remus finally agreed. "How did you find me?"

"The map," Sirius replied. "We thought you were in the Forbidden Forest at first, then we spotted you here in the Room of Requirement. Good thinking." Sirius looked around at the enchanted forest. "I'm impressed."

Finally Lily blurted out, "What tree? What map? What do you mean, who's responsible? When did you become an Animagus?" Suddenly she noticed she was still holding her wand, and she quickly pocketed it.

"All in good time," Sirius said, taking her elbow and gently leading her away from Remus. "Let's let him put some clothes on so he can go get some sleep."

Lily looked over her shoulder at Remus, but walked with Sirius beyond the edge of the grove. Remus watched her disappear with his friend and felt a sickening sense of dread. Quickly, he threw on his pajamas and dressing gown and approached his companions once more.

"Thanks, Lily," he said, returning her cloak. Lily kept her eyes on the ground as she took it.

The three stood in awkward silence for a moment before Sirius asked bluntly, "So, Lily, why did _you_ come searching for Remus?"

Lily's face flushed and she seemed to be searching for the right words. Remus's heart began to pound. "I saw him rushing into this room, and – and I knew something was wrong. I tried to stop him, to see what was the matter, and he – he bit me. Obviously." She cleared her throat and glanced at Remus. "He ran into the room and the door shut behind him and I couldn't get in … until sunrise."

"Well, it's good that you couldn't get in before sunrise," Sirius remarked. "Remus can be quite snarky during his time of the month."

Remus wondered, with a mixture of sadness and hope, if Lily had sat outside the door all night. Probably not, since Sirius hadn't seen her on the map last night. But how had she known how to get inside this morning? Had she been here before herself?

The room had probably prevented her from entering until daybreak, due to the nature of his desperate need. _I need a place where I can't hurt anyone!_ He must have been thinking of a forest, because he had never seen the Room of Requirement modify itself so drastically. It looked to be several kilometers wide and deep, full of trees, rocks, low hills, dead leaves. But no animals or birds. The place was peculiar in its total silence.

Sirius found a handle hidden within a particularly knobby tree trunk and opened the door. He checked the corridor to make sure they were alone, then the three filed out of the room and shut the door behind them. Lily pulled her cloak around her shoulders; because the clasp was broken now, she held it together at the neck and walked behind Sirius and Remus back to the Gryffindor portrait hole. Remus steadied himself with his hand on Sirius's shoulder. His steps were heavy and he squinted in the morning light.

"Coming in late again, Mister Lupin?" the Fat Lady inquired nosily as they approached the portrait. "Why Dumbledore hasn't had you expelled by now, I'll never know! Prefect, indeed!"

"Snitching mistress," Sirius commanded, using the new password, and the portrait swung wide.

"And you, too, Mister Black, out late more often than Mister Lupin. You should know it's dangerous to be out after dark, especially in times like these! But really, Miss Evans, I'm quite surprised at you. This isn't like you …"

The three entered the Common Room and closed the portrait before the Fat Lady could provide any more commentary.

"Where's James?" Remus asked.

"Asleep. He was up late combing the Forbidden Forest, when we thought that that was where you were. He had a run-in with some centaurs who gave him quite a turn. I searched Hogsmeade and the Shack. Peter stayed behind in case you turned up on the grounds," Sirius said quietly. "When we reconvened and realized you were here all along, I told James I'd come down to get you. We were on the verge of getting Dumbledore before we thought to use the map."

Sirius looked toward the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories and sidled away from Lily and Remus. Remus's heart sank at the knowledge that he had worried his friends so terribly.

Lily's voice brought him out of himself. "Will you be all right?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"Yeah." _More or less_. "I'm going to skip classes at least until lunchtime, maybe all day. Dumbledore knows; it happens every month. It's okay. This year he decided to tell the professors that I have an irritable bowel." Lily smiled grimly and Remus flushed. "Not very sexy, I know."

Lily glanced with unease at Sirius, who was watching them from his seat on the bottom step. "Can I check on you later?" she asked.

"Of course!" Remus answered quickly. "But I'll be okay, I promise. Just a little tired. And more than a little sore."

Suddenly looking into each other's eyes seemed a very intimate thing to do in front of Sirius, so they watched the stone floor instead.

"Well," Lily said slowly, "see you later, then."

"Bye," Remus mumbled awkwardly. He hadn't wanted their parting to be like this. "Erm, thanks for … for checking on me."

Her eyes fluttered to meet his for a split second. Then, clenching her jaw and blinking hard, she looked at the girls' stairwell. "You're welcome." She moved quickly and disappeared into the dark stairwell.

Across the dimly lit room, Remus shuffled to the boys' staircase, where Sirius stood up to help him manage the steps. Remus placed his arm around Sirius's shoulders and Sirius wrapped his arm around his friend's waist, a familiar position they had assumed dozens of times during their years at Hogwarts. They climbed the stairs in silence.

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_**A/N: Thanks for reading, and for all your thoughtful reviews. So, now Lily knows. How will the knowledge affect her? What, if anything, will happen between her and Remus? Reviews may prompt me to get the next chapters up very soon (hint, hint)!**_


	24. Explanations and Plans

Remus awoke with a jolt and sat up, gasping and reeling, convinced that it was the full moon and that he had overslept again. Yanking back the bed curtains, he saw that the time was half past eleven, nearly time for lunch. He dropped back onto his sweaty pillow and felt the terror and disorientation slowly subsiding, replaced by a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the events of last night and this morning. Another fifteen minutes elapsed before he decided he had better get up. He moved slowly at first, merely sitting on the edge of the bed until his head stopped swimming. The bed tower was empty; all the students were in class. With effort, he got out of bed and dressed.

As it happened, Lily didn't check on Remus. In fact, she missed all her classes and made herself rather scarce all day long, only appearing for the evening meal. The day passed for Remus with no fanfare other than the dull recognition that everything now had changed.

During breakfast, Sirius had whispered to James and Peter that Lily now knew about Remus's lycanthropy. Over lunch, when Remus joined his friends after his fitful sleep, he proposed that they all have a meeting that evening. Lily was now, more or less, one of them; after that traumatic prologue, she had a right to know the whole story. Because they couldn't think of a place to talk where they were certain they couldn't be overheard, James suggested that they utilize the Room of Requirement once more. Peter spotted Lily on the way to dinner and tiptoed over to her to ask her to meet them at eight o'clock, and she had agreed. She had eaten quickly and exited before the other three boys, speaking in whispers across the long table, knew she had even been there.

James had arrived early and, as Remus entered the Room of Requirement, he found himself in a warm, inviting lounge filled with comfortable tables and chairs. James was seated in an upholstered chair next to the fireplace, and the flames danced across his glasses as he stared into it. He had bruises on his forearms and a small one under his left eye, evidence of his encounter with centaurs in the Forbidden Forest last night when he was searching for Remus. Remus winced again at the sight of the injuries. He flopped into the chair across from James, grateful for the warmth and coziness of the blazing fire. James didn't speak to Remus, or look at him; and Remus, feeling wretched, did not press him. Soon Sirius arrived, then Peter, and they all sat in silence around the small coffee table as they waited for Lily.

As the minutes ticked on, Remus began to think she wasn't going to show up. He nervously fingered the scar on his upper lip, shifted in his seat, checked his grandfather's antique pocket watch. At last the door opened, and a pale Lily stepped through it. She softly closed it behind her and padded across the room. As she approached the fireplace Remus saw that her eyes were red, and his heart thudded painfully. She wore a maroon silk scarf around her neck and her blouse was buttoned high to hide the place where he had bitten her. Slowly she lowered herself into the remaining chair between Sirius and Peter.

"Now what?" she said breathlessly, keeping her raw eyes on the rug at her feet.

There was a long moment of silence as Remus tried to think of where to begin. "I – that is, we – think you deserve to know the truth."

And he told her his story, from being attacked by Fenrir Greyback to his arrival at Hogwarts and Dumbledore's provision of the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack. He told her that the only faculty members who knew about his condition were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Hagrid. At that point James took over and described the development of the friendship between the four boys, how they slowly began to suspect that something was going on with Remus, and how they eventually discovered his secret by following him and Madam Pomfrey to the Whomping Willow one night under the invisibility cloak and overhearing part of their conversation. Sirius explained how he, James, and Peter had decided to become Animagi and had finally succeeded last year, accompanying Remus on monthly visits to Hogsmeade. After a moment's hesitation, James told her about the near-tragedy in December, when Sirius had lured Severus to the Whomping Willow. Peter described the Marauder's Map that Remus had created over Christmas holiday so that they could see who was about, particularly at full moon. Finally Remus detailed his attempts to find a cure, including his dodgy but informative meeting with Adelaide Honeyduke and her subsequent death, as well as the reports he had uncovered in the _Quibbler_ and his meeting with Lucas Lovegood. He pointed out how many people had been bitten by werewolves lately and declared that it must be the work of Voldemort. When Remus finished speaking, Lily sat in stunned silence, letting the words sink in.

"Wow," she muttered dryly, pressing her fists to her forehead. "I need a drink."

With a pop, a tray containing five glasses of firewhiskey appeared on the coffee table in front of Lily and she jumped. Her sudden, nervous laughter broke the tension, although the general mood remained grim.

"Thanks, Room," Sirius acknowledged, taking a glass and toasting the air. "Well, I'm not letting it go to waste."

"I'll join you," Lily agreed, lifting a glass with a shaking hand.

Everyone sipped slowly, thoughtfully. No one seemed sure what would happen now.

"So Severus knows," Lily mused.

"I'll say," Peter confirmed with a nod. "But Dumbledore swore him to secrecy. He hasn't told anyone."

"That we know of," Sirius corrected darkly. "But he's probably the only student at Hogwarts who _could_ have jinxed that tree last night, much less wanted to. It screams of Dark magic. I'm certain it was him, or at least some Death Eater he knows." And Sirius told her about their discovery of Severus's meeting in Hogsmeade. "If he didn't do it, he probably had one of his Death Eater cronies do it."

Lily's face was dark, inscrutable.

"Besides, where did Filch come from last night? We weren't doing anything wrong," James said crossly.

"Other than sneaking out one of the side windows at dusk, smelling of butterbeer" Peter reminded him. "Why don't we ever just go out the front gates, like normal people?"

James ignored the question. "Snivellus could have set him on us, knowing where we'd be headed."

"I have no doubt who was behind it," Sirius said, peering angrily into the fire. "All of it."

"Well, who can blame him?"

Everyone turned to look at Remus. He studied the faces of his friends and took a swig of firewhiskey. He placed the empty glass on the table.

"I'm able to keep my problem under control, but only just; and Severus knows that almost as well as anyone. I've got to find a way to stop this. I don't know if it's possible, but I've got to try. The Whomping Willow has been breached, and I don't know if I can trust it again. Last night was only more proof of what could happen if anything – anything at _all_ – goes awry." Remus looked meaningfully at Lily and darted his eyes at her neck. She returned his look with one of alarm and shook her head slightly.

"What?" James blurted, sitting forward in his chair.

Lily and Remus stared at one another. As he looked into her eyes, he thought he saw something – and suddenly his mind was full of a vision of he and Lily walking back to Hogwarts hand in hand after his birthday party at the Hog's Head. But then Lily lowered her eyes and it was gone. Tentatively, she removed her silk scarf, unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, and pulled the collar away from her neck. A human-sized bite mark, bruised and angry, shone in the flickering firelight. Peter gasped, and James leapt up; clearly, Sirius hadn't told the other two about her wound.

"Gods, Lily!" James was kneeling at her side in a flash, gingerly touching the mark with his fingertips. Although her brow was furrowed, Lily allowed James's fingers to move over her skin. His hand traveled slowly, soothingly, as if it were trying to calm a spooked horse; and, indeed, while his hand searched the wound, she became still. Lily met Remus's gaze again, and once more a set of confusing images flashed vividly in his mind's eye, first of himself kissing Lily roughly against the tapestry last night, then of Lily dancing with James at last year's Yule dance, his hand pressed gently on her back, leading her confidently in a waltz. But Remus hadn't actually witnessed their dance; he had been outside with Elphaba. What was happening?

Lily turned to face James and the image was gone. Remus shook his head, as if he would shake more images loose from his addled brain. _Perhaps it's just fatigue,_ Remus reflected. He hadn't slept long enough this morning.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Lily said softly to James, a note of embarrassment in her voice.

Remus had never heard her speak so gently to him. James, still on one knee in front of Lily's chair, abruptly embraced her. Watching his friend's profile, Remus thought he saw James's eyes glistening. A surge of jealousy coursed though Remus's body. Unable to watch any longer, he turned away and sank deeper into his chair. Sirius, his head leaning against the chair back, watched Remus carefully until Remus became uncomfortable and turned to face the fire.

"So," Sirius barked. "What do we do about all this?"

No one spoke. James slowly pulled away from Lily and fastened her top blouse button; a pink flush stole across her cheeks as he did so. Then he delicately tied the little scarf around her neck again. He turned to face his friends, and Remus saw a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"What do we do? Revenge of the highest order," James said calmly.

"NO!" Remus and Lily erupted simultaneously.

"Why the hell not?" James demanded, standing beside Lily's chair and glowering at Remus.

"Yeah, why the hell not?" Sirius agreed, snapping his glare toward Lily.

"Because I said so," Lily spat. She stood and whirled to face James, meeting his glare with one of equal threat. "Because Severus is not what this is about."

James inhaled quickly to retort, but Remus interrupted him.

"She's right," Remus intoned quietly. "We escalate, we lose. We have to let it die here. Let him think he's won. Tit for tat, right? We started it, Severus finished it. The end. Let him have his little victory." He took a deep breath and went on. "The only way we – I – can win is to find a cure, an antidote, something. And I have to figure out why all these werewolf attacks are happening, who's behind them. And why did Araminta Drury and Tristan Kimball disappear so soon after they were attacked? I have to start with Greyback. We know from his history that he's got particular ties to Voldemort. Voldemort, in a sense, made him what he is."

"We'll help you," Lily said at once. "You can't do this alone. Not if Voldemort's behind it."

James and Sirius gaped at her. "You shouldn't get more involved in this, Lily," James reasoned. "Remus hurt you. It could have ended very badly. And it's Snivellus's fault. Just imagine if we run into Greyback – "

"But whose fault is it that Snivellus – damn it, _Severus_! – found out about Remus's condition in the first place?"

James blanched, and Lily brought the argument to a close with a satisfied _humph_.

Remus suggested that they all meet again Friday night in the Room of Requirement to brainstorm about how to find the Greyback home. There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up in two weeks, and they could probably escape fairly easily once in town.

The five wandered back to Gryffindor tower together, and Remus managed to linger back with Lily while Sirius and James spoke in hushed tones up ahead, with Peter lurking nearby. This was the first moment Remus had had to speak with Lily today.

"Lily, I'm sorry," he said softly, not wanting their conversation to be overheard.

"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault," she replied, not unkindly. "I'm sorry I avoided you today. I just … I had to try to make sense of all this." She paused. "I'm still making sense of it." She gave him a fleeting look and kept walking, their strides somehow perfectly matched as they strolled through the stone corridors. "I did a lot of reading about werewolves today."

"I can't blame you," Remus said. _And you're not the first to avoid me_, he thought wistfully.

"I hate that you have to go through that every month. I'm really sorry, Remus," she whispered, a frown darkening her features.

"Thanks," he replied, watching her profile carefully.

"Look at it this way: now I know when you'll need your space," she whispered. A sad smile upturned the corners of her lips.

Remus flushed, unsure how to respond. No matter his feelings, he reminded himself, there could never be a relationship with Lily … even if that was what she was hinting at, which he seriously doubted. His friendship with James was part of it, but now Remus had to admit that it was simply too dangerous for Lily – for anyone – to be with him.

At that moment, James dropped back next to Lily and, Remus saw with a sickening feeling, placed his hand on the small of her back. He quickly looked away and slowed his pace, feeling as if a cold drizzle had frozen his heart inside his chest, every heartbeat causing another crack. He peered out the windows at the dark, star-pricked sky, the innocently waning moon. Every now and then he glanced ahead and watched James and Lily walking together, silent in their thoughts. His hand was still on her back. Remus couldn't bear it; he forced himself to watch Peter's feet instead. As they neared the stairs to Gryffindor tower, Lily delicately inched away from James.

Remus focused his eyes on the toes of his scuffed shoes until the group reached the portrait hole.

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_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Things are about to get very interesting for Remus, if you stay tuned …**_


	25. Secret Meetings

Although Remus was exhausted, he found that sleep didn't come easily. He lay awake for several hours replaying last night's dangerous encounter in his mind. A werewolf loose in Hogwarts? How could he have been so stupid as to think of the Room of Requirement as a solution? What if he hadn't made it into the room at all? He should have gone to the Forbidden Forest; the chance of encountering Hagrid was probably quite small, and the half-giant knew how to take care of himself. Remus decided that he needed to further refine his risk assessment skills. Clearly, his logic could have failed him this time, and with terrible consequences.

But what he couldn't wrap his mind around was the way his desire for Lily had somehow gotten tangled up in his werewolf self's desire to destroy her. The two cravings had bled into one, even before he fully transformed; and this realization terrified him. If Lily hadn't pushed him away, if he hadn't gotten into the room … Well, she might have had a moment to run while the change occurred. Perhaps she could have escaped. He clung to this possibility even while he berated himself for naively believing it.

But Lily knew now. She knew what he was. And she didn't hate him for it. Something in him took comfort in the thought, and he felt decidedly less lonely. He spent several minutes pondering whether it made sense for them to be together since, after all, the worst part was over. There was nothing more to shock her, to repulse her. She'd seen him at his most grotesque and accepted him in spite of it. With a sigh, he tried to sweep the hope into a corner, even if he couldn't push it entirely from his mind.

Besides, there was James. Reliable James. Perfectly non-werewolfy James. James, who was, just maybe, perhaps, growing up a bit; but his timing couldn't have been worse, the sodding bastard. Why had she allowed James to touch her tonight?

Remus frowned and rolled over onto his stomach, hugging his pillow. The moon created a bloody glow through the thick maroon fabric surrounding his bed. He stared unblinking at the bed curtains until his eyes were as dry as parchment. With a force of will, he closed his eyes and tried to think of a tranquil lake, a moonless night.

Thirty minutes later, when it became evident that he wasn't about to get any sleep, Remus's eyes flew open. Quietly, he made his way down to the Common Room, opened a window, removed his pajama top, and leaned out to inhale the brisk night air for several minutes. He stared down at his sinewy forearms. Squinting his eyes, he could almost visualize what his arms and hands would look like with none of the old scars. He looked out into the night sky and watched the owls and bats chasing down their evening meals. Were their lives simpler?

A small sound made Remus turn. A lithe figure in a white nightgown was making its way toward him from the girls' stairwell.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Lily commented as she neared the window. Her hair was tousled and stuck up in several places. Remus was pained to observe that she had never looked more beautiful.

"No," he admitted. "Can't sleep. Wonder why."

Lily stared out the window and sighed, and as she turned her head he saw the bruised wound on her neck. A wellspring of remorse gurgled inside him. Remus felt a strong need to leave the room, leave Lily, before he did anything dumb or heartsick or dangerous. Something like kissing that mark on her neck.

Feeling vulnerable, he put on his pajama top – although it struck him as an oddly shy thing to do, as Lily had seen him naked only this morning. But before he could button it, her arms were around him, her cheek pressed against his heart. As she clutched him, he felt a strange energy in her body, something powerful and incomprehensible brewing there. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and, as he did so, a hollow sob wracked her. He held onto her tightly, as if he were the only thing keeping her from slipping over an awful precipice. In his arms, however, her outburst dissipated quickly, as though his embrace had simultaneously caused and removed the tears at once; and she became still in his arms. They stood in silence, feeling the cold air on their arms and faces. He reached out with one arm and pulled the window closed, then embraced her again. The room was utterly silent except for the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

"Our secret meetings are far too full of tears," Remus muttered into the top of her head, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

"Yes," Lily agreed. Her stillness became rigid and she was silent for several seconds, as if she were steeling herself for something. "Maybe they're full of tears because they're secret."

There was no denying her intention this time. Remus's heart began to palpitate. One small hand squeezed his shoulder blade, almost unconsciously, it seemed. He gently pulled away from her, his hands still on her waist; he tried to see her eyes, but the moon was over her shoulder. The light played against the silvery down of her pale cheek, and he wanted to kiss it and never stop.

Remus pried the words from his lips. "We can't do this."

There was the briefest of pauses. "Why not?" she countered.

"Think about it," he whispered, dropping his hands.

"No."

"Come on, Lily."

"Say it, then," she demanded. Her hands went to her hips and she stared at him.

"It's too dangerous," Remus began.

"Bollocks. Not if we plan for it."

"It'll end badly."

"How do you know?"

"I'll hurt you. I already have."

"Stop it," she spat, looking away.

"And James is my best mate – "

"Yes, but –"

" – and he loves you."

The words tripped her, but only for a moment. "We could explain to him. Or just not tell him."

"He _loves_ you." And Remus, thinking of James's tenderness with Lily tonight, registered that it was true. It was true; but Remus felt strangely unmoved by the realization. _But you have to do the right thing_, he demanded silently. _The right thing_ …

"He doesn't own me," Lily glowered.

"He loves you, Lily." _If I keep saying it, maybe she'll_ … But Remus didn't know exactly what he wanted her to do. He certainly didn't want her to believe him. "He's loved you for years." He felt like a broken record.

"So have you."

He almost heard a scratch on the record player inside his head.

Lily faced him squarely and waited. She wrapped her fingers through his and waited some more. He felt his hand begin to sweat. "Haven't you?"

Remus was motionless. _So it all comes to this_, he thought. At two o'clock in the morning, standing awkward and bleary-eyed in the moonlight at school, at last, at long last, a boy and a girl reach the inevitable stalemate – it seemed at once surreal and ridiculously ordinary. He had the power to determine the course of events, right now. One syllable, and a future with Lily could open before his weary eyes, but he could lose his only friends. Another syllable, he'd keep his friends, but lose his heart's most secret and unmerited desire. How easy would it be simply to tell his brain to deliver the correct word to his lips?

He took a breath.

"No," his mouth said.

The silence in the room was palpable.

Lily's gaze bored into his for a searing, furious moment. She turned on her heel to leave.

But his hand wouldn't let go of hers, and she stopped.

He watched her profile in the moonlight. How vulnerable it seemed. Quickly, all her anger melted away, all pretense of confidence slid from her face for one second as her breath shuddered from her nostrils. Her eyelashes fluttered closed, open. Her brow furrowed.

She turned toward Remus, and her eyes, glittering in the darkness, searched his. She inhaled slowly, thoughtfully, the sound of air whispering through her teeth. "You are a terrible liar," she murmured.

Lily was here. Choosing him. And he would have been a fool to let her go. "I know it," he said simply.

He stepped into her, feeling her warmth radiating into him even though they were centimeters apart. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, his left hand traced her jaw, and she grazed her lips across his fingers, allowing her cheek to find its resting place in his cupped palm. His free arm snaked its way around Lily's waist; he pulled her gently but snugly against him, and she inhaled sharply. His fingers slipped from her cheek toward the warm hair at the nape of her neck. Her head tilted back and she watched him through half-lidded eyes, a tentative smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Those lips were a breath away from his. But his conscience had to make a last-ditch effort. "This would kill James if he knew," he managed, breathing raggedly.

"I can keep a secret if you can." Her voice was low and serious, a simple challenge, an earnest request.

_Last chance_. "Lily, I'm a werewolf."

Her gaze softened, and her cool fingers found the scars on his face. "So I gathered."

"Do you have an answer for everything?" he whispered into her mouth.

Her lips darted away and she tickled his ear with her hot breath. "Only when I understand the question."

He spoke very quietly, his lips nearly touching her smooth cheek. "What was the question?"

"You've already asked it. And I've said yes. Or did you not notice?"

"Lily …" Brushing his lips across her cheek, he inhaled her scent, and delicious delirium overtook him. "Of course I noticed. I never stopped noticing."

She turned her head to meet his waiting lips and, somehow, subtly, everything shifted. Moonlight splashed though windows and splattered onto the stones at their feet, bright enough to singe closed eyelids, white as sunlight. Darkness embraced their bodies, as warm and velvety as a winter pelt. Blood coursed in new directions, toward each other, recognizing spaces that had yet to be filled. Remus barely moved, relishing the feel of Lily's pliant mouth against his, yielding and insistent all at once.

He opened his eyes and gently pulled his lips away. Her mouth followed his for a moment, as if it were reluctant to be without the warmth of his. Then Lily, too, opened her eyes. What he saw there was undeniable: _This is what I want_. How he knew it, he had no idea. He just knew. He felt a tiny smile reaching toward his cheeks, and his heart raced faster.

Remus lowered his head to hers again. He closed his eyes just as their lips met, and he felt himself falling, falling, in the most wonderful ways possible. His toes gripped the floor to keep himself from swaying on his feet. Slowly, he probed deeper, testing her resistance; and, finding none, he allowed himself to explore more fully. Each kiss was met with matching zeal. Each depth he plumbed revealed new sensations in his lips, his tongue, the palms of his hands, his body. Kissing had never felt like this before, and he couldn't help but wonder what other things might feel like with Lily. He let his fingers wander over her soft curves and was startled when he realized that her hands were beginning to range tentatively over his physique, as well. Inside his pajama top, her fingers traced his chest, his ribs, his abdomen. His skin felt electrified, and he nearly whimpered from the sensation.

He needed to feel the length of her body, and immediately. Grasping her tightly against him, he backed her toward the brown velvet couch in front of the fireplace. Placing one knee on the sofa, he lowered Lily down onto it, hovering over her for a moment, gazing at her pale, fine features, into her dark green eyes. Her hands were on his jaw and she regarded him with longing. A smoldering image burned into his mind – himself and Lily in bed together, her naked legs wrapped around him – and it was almost more than he could bear. He closed his eyes and the vision disappeared. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue winding wildly with hers, bodies pressed together. He felt a moan leave his lips and enter her mouth, muffled by her kisses. After a few minutes, she writhed underneath him, bucking him into motion. Gradually, their movements undulated like waves, and the waves felt unstoppable.

But he had to stop them. With a grand effort, Remus forced himself to sit up, knees in front of him. Panting, he backed against the arm of the couch and wiped his raw mouth on the back of his hand. Lily sat up facing him, breathing hard, her hands on the tops of his bare feet. A grin began to spread across his face. "I think we should take a break before our clothes come off and Mother Nature insists on my having my way with you right here in the Common Room."

_Did I just say that?_ he thought in a rush of embarrassment. But Lily was unfazed; she wrinkled her eyes and let out a frustrated squeak, which made Remus want to fling her back on the couch and snog her senseless. She smiled, her cheeks flushed and rosy. He took her face in his hands and kissed her once, twice, again and again and again. She raked her fingers through his hair and pressed her body towards his, forcing his legs apart until their chests were together, and they kissed with renewed passion, hearts pounding fiercely. He slid down on the couch and wrapped a leg around hers, pulling her body closer with it. Her position of dominance whetted in him an overwhelming urge that he felt rather powerless to resist. His hands found her hips and he guided her movements until he thought he would go mad with desire. Finding the strength from somewhere, he gently pushed her away again and sat up once more.

When he gathered himself he spoke gently. "Let me be clear that I in no way _want_ this to stop. However, I would like for us to have – " He paused and smiled, blinking thoughtfully as he realized what he was about to say.

"Something to look forward to?" Lily finished for him, her eyes watching him coyly.

The thought had entered his mind so fluidly, so naturally. Perhaps this thing – he and Lily – _was_ possible. Remus took her hand, tangling his fingers into hers, and began to kiss each fingertip. "Yes," he whispered. Lily smiled.

"So be it." She paused and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Spoilsport."

Suddenly they were snickering, and the supreme effort to keep quiet made them laugh all the more. Soon, however, kisses interspersed the stifled laughter, and before long all was silent in the Common Room once more, except for the popping of the fire and the occasional groan or sigh. Never had the passage of time felt so heady and sweet, each moment bringing a new discovery, a fantastic thrill to be savored. Now Remus began to take great delight in deducing which kisses pleased Lily best, which caresses (and where) elicited the deepest sighs, the most surprised gasps and unabashed moans. His own pleasure spiraled upward with every tiny vocalization and squirm she offered.

Remus felt utterly drunk. If Lily ran her hands over his hips or sucked on his lip once more, he was likely to lose control. He forced himself up onto both elbows and found that their nightclothes were drenched in sweat. Lily's lips were parted slightly as she tried to slow her breathing. Her cheeks wore a fevered flush, and her eyes flashed brilliantly. The lusty, unguarded gaze with which she fixed him tonight was one he had never seen before, and Remus decided then and there that he had to see that gaze as many times as she would allow. For now, though, he sat back to cool off and Lily sat facing him, knees drawn close, her toes covering his. Every nerve ending in his body screamed to touch her, and it was rather an exhilarating sensation to deny himself that pleasure. His entire being vibrated with an unrelenting, primitive curiosity about Lily that he sincerely hoped he could satisfy. But not tonight.

"We … should … go to bed," he said reluctantly. Lily's eyes widened playfully. "_Sleep!_ Go to sleep, I meant to say."

She smiled, resting her chin on her knees. Her gaze became serious. "Stay," she whispered.

He cocked his head, tried to put on a chastising voice. "Lily …" But he felt himself crumbling already.

"No harm in it, right? Stay." She wrapped her arms around her knees and tilted her head, waiting.

He looked askance at her and smiled cheekily. "But we have classes in the morning – " _Not to mention the fact that we might be discovered out here_ …

"Stay. Just stay." Lily placed a hand on his cheek, and he felt its soothing warmth as he buried his lips in it. "Let's sleep out here, Remus."

The fire was warm. The couch was comfortable. At this point, Remus probably would have done anything she asked. He pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa.

"For you, Lily …"

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_**A/N: At last! I'm betting some of you have been waiting for this scene to finally happen. Please let me know what you think! All reviewers will receive a Common Room make-out session with the Remus of their choice. Up for grabs is Angst-Ridden Remus, Poetry-Quoting Remus, Sweetly Self-Effacing Remus, Remus-Who-Has-No-Earthly-Idea-How-Shaggable-He-Is, and any others you can dream up …**_


	26. Perchance to Dream

Daybreak crept into the Common Room, bringing with it the quiet sounds of morning. Birds twittered, and a breeze swept through the forest. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. The scents of new, unnamable flowers drifted into Remus's nostrils, all of them somehow emanating from Lily's neck.

His eyes fluttered open. Lily was still nestled against him, her back curved into him, fitting perfectly with his form even though her frame was much smaller than his tall, lanky one. Under the blanket, his left arm was draped over her hip; he gently slipped it across her torso until his hand was tucked into the small, warm space between her right shoulder and cheek. His right arm was serving as a pillow for her head, as it had done a few hours ago when they finally tore themselves from one another and agreed to try to shut their eyes. It began to dawn on him that the arm was totally asleep, prickly and heavy and numb. He looked at his hand dangling off the edge of the sofa and saw that Lily's right hand was lying inside his numb one, cupped there like a delicate flower. He tried to squeeze her hand but, having no strength in that arm, barely managed a light twitch. He smiled into her hair, thinking that to lose an arm for this moment was a small price to pay.

As he awoke more fully, his brain began to process the events of the last day and a half. How could his life have altered so entirely in the span of thirty-six hours? Had the trauma of their encounter at the full moon at last brought them together, when nothing else had? Remus had an sudden and unexpected thought that biting Lily had, in a strange way, marked her as his own, his chosen mate. It was a horrible thought, and he crushed it immediately. But still it seemed that the bite, oddly enough, had opened the door to possibility. Remus sighed. He was overanalyzing things, as usual. He decided to focus on the here and now. He kissed the angry bite mark gently, reverently, grateful that something so wonderful had come from such a terrifying accident. He was determined that this was the first and last injury Lily would sustain at his hands.

He kissed the back of her neck, whispered her name; somehow, it felt right in his mouth today. Everything had changed last night; and the change, it appeared, had taken root. He was no longer afraid of the taste of her name on his tongue. He kissed her neck again.

"_Papaver somniferum_," murmured Lily.

_Making potions in her sleep_, Remus realized with a smile. "Come on, love," he whispered, nibbling the nape of her neck. "Poppies later. Breakfast first."

"_Syringa vulgaris_."

_Lilacs_. "Wake up, love." His lips slid toward the bit of skin behind her left ear, just above the bite.

With her eyes still closed, she turned toward him and kissed him, making sleepy little sounds in her throat. "Daisies, daisies," she murmured between kisses. "Oh." Her eyes flew open and she smiled, her lips still on his.

"Oh, hello. I didn't see you there," Remus replied, returning the smile, not daring to completely remove his lips from hers. Her eyelashes glinted reddish-brown in the morning light; he could almost count each individual lash.

"I'm starving," Lily muttered, beginning to nibble on his chin.

"Toast would be more nutritious than my rather meager stubble, I'm afraid," Remus remarked.

"Then we'd best get dressed and go get breakfast. We'll be the first ones there. Race you!" A blur of white nightgown and coppery hair and she was gone.

Remus stared at the ceiling for a moment, grinning and massaging his dead arm, until he realized that Lily was probably serious. And he didn't want to miss a moment of being alone with her, even if it was in the Great Hall over breakfast and coffee. He leapt from the couch and bolted upstairs to change.

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As Lily suspected, she and Remus were among the first students in the Great Hall. They sat next to each other at the long Gryffindor table, allowing the sides of their shoes to touch every now and then; but otherwise they were the models of decorum. Remus commented that, oddly, he had not dreamed last night; and he confessed that usually his dreams were full of images. In response, Lily began to quote dramatically from Hamlet's famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy:

… _To die, to sleep;_

_To sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;_

_For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,_

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_

_Must give us pause …_

"I played Hamlet when I was nine," Lily confessed. "Probably the worst, youngest Hamlet they had ever seen at summer camp. Not to mention the most female."

"And the most beautiful," Remus added, delighting in watching a splotch of pink appear on her cheek as she smiled, her eyes downcast. "I'm sure you were brilliant. I would have given you a standing ovation."

"No account for taste," Lily scoffed gently.

Remus laughed. "Let me have my boyhood crush, if you please."

Lily gave Remus a sidelong glance. "_Hamlet_ is the reason I came to school."

"How do you figure?" Remus asked, facing her.

"When I got my letter from Hogwarts, I was terrified. I didn't want to come here. Over the years, I'd already frightened my sister half to death with various accidental bits of magic. Understand, I just wanted to be like her, to be normal."

"Yeah," Remus said, watching her profile intently.

"But finally Mum sat me down and asked me if I thought someday I might ever regret not going. I thought of Hamlet, and how he didn't do what he knew in his heart was right. Because he waited too long, he messed everything up. He killed people he didn't mean to kill, people who didn't need to die. He lost his girl, his best friend, his mother (evil though she was), and his life." She looked at Remus. "I didn't want to die a bitter old woman, plagued by dreams of regret. I didn't want to live an unfulfilled life. And most of all I didn't want to hurt someone because I didn't know how to control my magic. So here I am. Alive and well, and wickedly good with a wand."

Remus smiled and clasped her hand under the table. "And I, for one, am very glad you played Hamlet."

Lily smiled back and squeezed his fingers. They slipped easily into a conversation about the brilliant psychological characterizations in Shakespeare's play, which blended naturally into one about Muggle psychology in general, and from there into pop culture and Muggle music, including songwriters from Bob Dylan to David Bowie. Remus was glad Lily understood the Muggle sensibility, as his grandmother had been such an influence on him as a boy. Somehow it didn't feel strange that they didn't mention his lycanthropy. He knew they would have to discuss it again at least once before the month was out; but this morning he was content to know a little bit more about Lily, about how she viewed the world, and what she thought of it. He figured she already knew all there was to know about him.

Eventually, more students began to trickle into the Great Hall, and Lily stood to go back to the girls' tower to get her books and put her hair back.

"Wait." Remus stood with her, resisting the impulse to put a hand on her narrow waist in front of the other sleepy students. "I feel I've left something out."

Lily smiled. "Was there something we didn't cover during this strangely all-encompassing conversation?"

"I should have asked you something." He took a breath. "Lily Evans, will you go out with me?"

She blushed, smiling. "You know the answer to that question."

"Saturday, at noon. The dragon's burial mound. I'll bring lunch."

"It's a date," she said softly, her green eyes burning into his. At once a vision exploded into his mind, quite unbidden, of their kissing on the couch last night during a particularly sweaty embrace. He blinked and it was gone.

"Okay, see you in class," he smiled, feeling oddly as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The feeling quickly subsided when Lily smiled and he shook it off. He watched her lithe figure from behind as she exited the Great Hall.

Remus sat down again and refilled his teacup, stirring it idly, feeling deliciously content and wondering what he had done to deserve this splendor. A pang of guilt throbbed inside his chest when he saw Peter, Sirius, and James lumbering toward the table where he sat. But somehow he was able to shove it aside, as if his feelings for Lily now had their own special, locked drawer inside his heart. No one had a right to pilfer that drawer, not even his own melancholy conscience.

He was grateful that his friends were relatively subdued in light of the recent events, for he found that he really didn't feel talkative just now. The four friends spoke in hushed tones over bacon sandwiches and muffins about what other avenues they could explore to locate the Greyback house. James, however, hardly said a word.

Then he looked at Remus, and suddenly another image invaded Remus's thoughts – he saw James and Sirius sending an owl from the Hogwarts owlery at night; but instead of taking off for parts unknown, the owl flew straight to the school. Remus shook his head as if he had swimmer's ear. What was wrong with him? Where were these visions coming from? And what did they mean?

He tore his gaze from James to Sirius and found that he was watching Remus warily. Abruptly, another set of images stole into Remus's mind. Sirius was standing with Remus and Lily in the forest created by the Room of Requirement, Remus's blood on Lily's white blouse, the mark red and dangerous-looking on her neck. Then the vision switched to Sirius scrutinizing Remus in front of the fire last night as Remus watched James touching Lily's wound. Remus hadn't realized he had looked so visibly displeased by their contact.

Remus looked away from Sirius and the image was gone. He pressed his palms into his eyes and vowed to go see Madam Pomfrey during lunch today. Perhaps he was truly losing it. Perhaps the years of transformation had finally taken their toll on his psyche. Or maybe he was just really, really tired. _Great_, he thought. _I finally give in to the woman of my dreams, and then I go mad_.

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Remus saw Lily in his first two classes; but she arrived just before class began and uncharacteristically sat in the back so that Remus couldn't very well turn around to see her. It was probably smart on her part; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to tear his eyes from her. He tried to focus on the lectures and practical exercises, with a minimal amount of success. He was relieved when the lunch hour came at last, and he hastened to see Madam Pomfrey.

The infirmary was oddly full of patients, first year students whose skin was covered in fish scales. Madam Pomfrey scuttled from one student to another, rubbing a slimy substance on their skin and trying to quell the general pandemonium with the help of one overwhelmed student trainee.

"Where's Professor Slughorn? How could he let this happen?" one student kept gurgling over and over.

"Pescemius potions for first years, indeed," Madam Pomfrey muttered crossly under her breath. "Too volatile. What was the man thinking? I should drag him up here myself! Scaling these children is _not_ going to be easy."

Remus realized that he might have to wait a long while, so he resolved to try again after Defense Against the Dark Arts. As he turned to leave, he noticed a dark figure in the corner next to the door. Severus Snape was sitting up in bed, fully clothed over the white bed covers, and he appeared to be trying to look inconspicuous. He held a handkerchief over his nose and there was blood on it.

Remus dragged a chair over and sat quietly facing Severus. He folded his arms across his chest, extending his long legs and crossing his ankles in front of him. The two seldom spoke to one another; the silence was as much Severus's choice as Remus's own. But since he was here, he may as well confirm whether or not Severus was indeed behind the Whomping Willow's refusal to let him enter. James and Sirius were certain it was him, but part of Remus still wanted to believe that it was a fluke, a horrible accident.

Regarding Severus silently, he was filled with the familiar mixture of loathing and pity. Severus was a brilliant wizard; however, he suffered from a social awkwardness that exceeded even Remus's. But while Remus, with the support of his friends, had slowly blossomed over the past six years, Severus had withdrawn further into his isolation and his fascination with Dark magic. Remus often wondered whether he could have befriended Severus … but the feud fuelled by James and Sirius had made that impossible, and Severus had thrown a few punches of his own in years past which made it difficult to trust him now.

The killing blow, of course, was Severus's meeting with the Death Eaters; but Remus didn't dare ask him about it. If it were true, if Severus were thinking of joining them, asking him about it would likely direct the attention of the Death Eaters toward Remus and his family. If Severus cast cruel curses at Remus, that was one thing; but the Death Eaters felt no remorse, had no compunction about killing entire families, or torturing them into madness. Remus couldn't let Severus know that his friends had seen him in the Hog's Head.

Severus lowered his handkerchief and Remus saw that his beaklike, bloodied nose was now sitting decidedly toward the right side of his face. Remus sat up.

"How sweet. Come to give me sympathy?" Severus hissed, his eyes barely visible beneath the curtain of lank, black hair. "Or are you here to finish me off?"

"What are you talking about?" Remus questioned. "What happened?"

Severus turned his dark eyes toward Remus with a look of disgust, which slowly melted into one of disbelief. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

But as he looked into Severus's eyes, he saw it. He saw it as if it were one of his own memories.

_Severus waited behind greenhouse three, rereading a puzzling owl signed "L.M." that he had received the previous night. As he stood there, James and Sirius snuck around the sides toward him. With animal force, James leapt onto Severus, throwing him to the ground with his full weight; he managed to relieve Severus of his wand in the scuffle. James stood up and pocketed the wand securely as he and Sirius both drew their own wands._

"_Oops," Sirius jeered, pointing his wand at Severus's nose. "I suppose you were expecting your old pal Lucius Malfoy. Our mistake. Though I'm certain he sends his regards."_

_Severus fixed him with a look that could have wilted flowers._

"_Funny little joke you pulled last night," James growled._

"_Amusing you was not my intent," Severus said smoothly from his prostrate position on the grass. "Apparently I owe you my life; but I owe nothing to Lupin, or the other fools with whom you keep company." He glared again at Sirius._

"_You're coming with us now, to remove the spell," Sirius demanded, advancing on him._

_Severus sat up, brushing off his robes. "It's already done. It was a one-night charm that wore off at daybreak. Dumbledore will never know. It's untraceable, or so I was told." His tone was smug as he watched his two assailants with satisfaction._

"_You were told?" James's eyes flashed._

"_Remus isn't the only one with friends to back him up, you know," Severus said cryptically. "But now I know how to control that tree. It would behoove you to be nice."_

"_I'll show you nice –" And James pushed Severus to the ground once more, digging a knee into his chest. James's wand was in Severus's face, their eyes locked. As they watched each other, a look of raw panic crossed Severus's face._

"_Lily? –" Severus whispered, his brow furrowing._

_James's face fell as he stared at Severus. "What?"_

"_Nothing," Severus said hoarsely, turning his eyes away._

_Sirius knelt by James's side and yanked Severus's hair so that he was forced to look at him. "How would you know about Lily? Who told you?" _

_Severus met Sirius's eyes for a moment. Then he laughed – a dry, raspy chuckle like old, hollow bones being ground to dust in a mortar._

"_She should have sent her boyfriend to defend her," he sniggered. "But instead it's poor, puppy dog James. How poignant. Ah, this is bliss."_

_Sirius glanced at James, and both boys seemed utterly taken aback. James pocketed his wand and punched Severus hard in the nose. There was an audible crack._

"_Tell us about the tree," James commanded, his left hand clutching Severus's throat. Sirius's wand remained trained on Severus's face._

_Severus merely smiled as blood trickled into his mouth._

_A group of second years began traipsing down the hill toward the greenhouse. Seeing them, James and Sirius shot up and careened toward the school. Severus stood with as much dignity as he could muster, pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his nose. He turned this way and that before he finally stalked toward the school, as well. With no wand, he seemed to have no choice but to head for the infirmary._

Suddenly Severus ripped his gaze from Remus's, and Remus blinked hard several times. This vision had snapped into his consciousness unbidden in the matter of a few seconds, more complete and detailed than any of the previous ones had done. Severus looked rather shaken, as if he, too, had experienced something quite unexpected.

"No need to pry," he muttered. "I could have just told you what happened."

"Wh-What?" Remus stammered.

"How long have you been a Legilimens?" Severus measured his words carefully, keeping his eyes on the bed linens.

"A – a what?"

"Don't play dumb, Lupin; it's beneath you."

"I don't know what you mean," Remus insisted.

"You don't?" Severus sneered. "Shall I show you?"

As Severus turned his eyes toward Remus again, Remus felt random memories being torn open like so many letters – transforming for the first time in his parents' tool shed, holding Lily beside the lake, being attacked by Fenrir, meeting James on the Hogwarts Express, getting photographed by the Ministry of Magic lackey, watching Lily in Potions class, laughing while he dueled with Sirius, kissing Lily in Hogsmeade, shamefully turning his eyes away while James turned Severus upside down, a friend's door slamming in his face at age eight, reading next to his grandmother on her back porch, throwing Lily violently against the tapestry, kissing her last night –

_Stop it!_ his mind shouted. _These aren't for you!_ Somehow, although the images had flashed quickly, he knew that Severus was seeing all of it.

He pushed his vision outward and suddenly he was back inside Severus's thoughts – Severus being pulled back by James as he neared the underground door to the Shrieking Shack, trying to fly a broom for the first time and being laughed at by James and Sirius, whispering with Lucius Malfoy in the Hog's Head, standing shakily numerous times in front of a dark-haired woman as a hook-nosed man advanced upon them both, being held upside down by James as Lily looked on, watching Remus kissing Lily in the middle of the dark road, opening numerous owls from Lucius Malfoy, sitting in a dark room with several hooded figures, glancing at Lily in Potions class, being transfigured into a flobberworm by Sirius, casting a spell on the Whomping Willow, reaching for Lily's hand during a walk on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest –

Suddenly Remus felt as if he had been forcibly pushed out of a room, and the images were gone, though Severus still gazed at him furiously. His head was spinning and his chest heaved. What had he just seen? How had he gained access to Severus's thoughts? How had Severus entered _his_?

"I'm – I'm sorry," Remus stammered. "I don't know what's happening."

"Go away," Severus muttered, lying back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling.

Remus glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was only halfway through the class of flopping, fish-scaled students. He was utterly at a loss as to what to do, or say. He had come here to confront Severus about the tree; but now that he had the confirmation he'd needed, he was speechless. Any anger he might have felt had somehow transformed into desperate confusion, along with a strange, unsettling feeling that Severus deserved mercy – his, anyone's. But how could anyone show mercy to someone so actively pursuing the Dark arts? How far down that path had he traveled? Remus latched onto the only action that seemed appropriate. Turning back to Severus, he gestured toward his broken nose and reached for his wand.

"May I fix that for you?" He felt stupid as he said it, but somehow he felt that he must make the offer nonetheless.

"I'd rather you didn't," Severus intoned.

Remus nodded and stood to leave. "I'll get your wand back for you," he said firmly.

Severus glared at Remus as if he were a raving lunatic. Dabbing cautiously at his broken nose, he mumbled from underneath the handkerchief, "Go see Dumbledore. Ask him about Legilimency. And Occlumency."

Then Severus closed his eyes. Remus watched him for a moment and exited the infirmary, wondering if Severus had actually caught Lily's hand during that walk beside the forest.

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During the remaining classes of the day, Remus found that practically anytime he made eye contact with anyone, some vision or another would enter his mind unbidden. He experienced snatches of students receiving love notes, fighting with their parents, cheating on tests, crying in corridors, worrying about upcoming exams, eating toast. He quickly learned not to look anyone in the eye.

After his last class Remus hurried toward Dumbledore's office; but when he arrived, the headmaster was nowhere to be found. He quickly scribbled a note requesting a meeting and left it on his desk. Next Remus's feet carried him to a dark corner of the library where he read, until well after midnight, everything he could about Legilimency and Occlumency. He had heard of these abilities before, of course; but he had always thought that if one possessed those talents they would have manifested well before the teenage years. Evidently that was not so. The literature contained accounts of children becoming Legilimenses as young as age four, and adults developing the skill as old as eighty-seven.

Remus was most interested in how to control the visions, which depended utterly on maintaining eye contact. He really had no interest in becoming privy to everyone's thoughts every minute of the day. He had enough of his own mental fodder to slough through without having the emotions and memories of others foisted on him. And, frankly, what he had experienced of it so far had made him feel a bit mad. He could do without more madness in his life.

Remus knew he had always been able to read other people uncannily well, but that skill had developed naturally from years of trying to anticipate the needs of others. The loneliness of being a werewolf had made Remus acutely aware of others' feelings, and he had learned to adapt his own behavior in order to make those around him more comfortable. He simply couldn't afford to upset anyone for petty reasons; people would have enough cause to mistrust him once they discovered his condition. Friends were difficult to earn, and to keep, when one was a werewolf. So he had learned to anticipate needs, to ingratiate himself, to please those around him.

The literature indicated that sometimes an emotional event could trigger the onset of Legilimency or Occlumency. Perhaps the trauma of attacking Lily had cracked something open in Remus's mind. The phrase "psychotic break" kept bursting into his thoughts, and it wasn't a pleasant consideration. He thought of Hamlet, and poor Ophelia, one feigning madness, the other driven mad by her lover's charade. What would Lily say if – _when_ – she found out about this ability? Remus supposed he should be happy to have such a rare talent; certainly there were people who would give a lot to possess it. But he really wasn't quite certain that he wanted it himself. It felt like something had been damaged in his brain rather than liberated. There was enough about him that was odd, and he preferred not to have anything else added to the list. What would his friends say if – no, not if, but _when_, he again reminded himself – they learned that he could read their minds? Would they ever want to talk to him again? He wanted to shake this new ability out of his mind, as if it were an insect that had accidentally flown into his ear.

After so many hours of reading, Remus's burning eyes were dry, and he felt his eyelids drooping stickily. He had been staring at the same page for several minutes while confused thoughts spun in and out of focus, whizzing by like animals on some nightmarish carousel. He slammed all the books shut and reshelved them. Hoisting his book bag over his shoulder, he tromped toward the Common Room. He hoped he would see Lily there. He had been so distracted today that he hadn't thought to try to arrange to meet with her.

When he passed through the portrait hole, he saw James sitting in darkness on Remus's favorite sofa. _The_ sofa. The one that, after last night, must smell like Lily's perfume, their mingled sweat. James's feet were up on the table in front of him, ankles crossed. His head was resting on the back of the sofa, and his eyes were closed. His right hand held his glasses loosely on his stomach. His left hand held his Transfiguration textbook, still open, on the cushion next to him.

Remus approached him, intending to wake him up so that he wouldn't get a stiff neck. But as he neared the sofa, James opened his eyes and replaced his glasses.

"'Lo," James murmured sleepily, tossing his book onto the low table. He removed his feet from the table and sat forward, rubbing his scalp and releasing bits of dandruff, which floated lazily through the shafts of moonlight onto the threadbare rug below.

"Hi," Remus replied, sitting diagonally across from him in an overstuffed chair. His heavy book bag slid to the floor with a dull thump. He found that he was too tired to confront James about hitting Severus and taking his wand now. Besides, if he wanted to find that wand, he would have to be sneaky about it, as he was certain James wouldn't give it up.

"I was having a dream," James said. His voice was quiet and muffled, almost as if he were still asleep.

"Yeah?"

James flopped back against the cushions again. "I was beating the shit out of you."

Remus considered for a moment. "Yeah," he said, nodding. _If you only knew_.

"But my punches kept landing on air, and I had no strength. You know, typical dream. Eventually I gave up and you and I went to get a bite to eat."

"Huh."

The two were silent for a few minutes. James had closed his eyes and Remus began to think he had fallen asleep again. Remus stood and was about to pick up his book bag when James spoke once more.

"Do you remember biting her?" he asked matter-of-factly.

Remus looked at the girls' stairwell and answered miserably, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good." James opened his eyes and fixed Remus with a withering stare that he felt rather than saw, as his friend's eyes were nearly all in shadow. "Don't you ever forget it."

Remus didn't know what to say to James, what could possibly make anything right between them. "Do you _want_ to hit me?" he offered feebly.

James's hand twitched and he tilted his head, contemplating. "Yes," he said simply. "But I doubt it would make me feel any better."

"Might make _me_ feel better," Remus muttered.

"Then I'm definitely not hitting you."

"Fair enough."

James kicked off his shoes, stretched out the full length of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching.

Remus regarded him quietly, then shouldered his book bag and shuffled up the stairs. He changed silently into his pajamas and climbed into bed, listening to the regular breathing and snoring of his classmates. James would be happy to know that Remus was doing just as he wished – ruminating and suffering.

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_**A/N: Some of you wondered whether Remus and Lily would get caught on the sofa. But I'm a softy; I had to allow Remus to be happy at least for a little while! There are plenty of other complications coming up, don't worry. Oh, and if you want to leave a review, there is a lonely werewolf looking for someone to spoon.**_


	27. Two Wands

During the night, a heavy rain began. By morning, it beat heavily against the windows and roof of the tower, echoing through the stairwell into the bedchambers, making the entire structure sound like the inside of a drum. As Remus lay in bed, he reflected dimly that maybe the noise could hammer all thought out of his head. _That wouldn't be such a bad thing_, he mused. When his friends began to stir, Remus murmured from under the covers that he wanted to sleep in, and he let James, Sirius, and Peter go on to breakfast without him.

Once all his classmates were gone, however, Remus leapt out of bed and quickly dressed. He knew that if he had asked Sirius or James to return Severus's wand, he wouldn't likely receive it. Casting a cursory glance about the room, he didn't think he would find it here. He looked in the trash bin and smirked at his own naiveté; why would they have left it there, for anyone to find? It could be in James's trunk; but he doubted that James would have left such evidence lying around – even though Severus was unlikely to accuse James and Sirius of theft anyhow, as there were five students who would testify that Severus had tampered with the Whomping Willow. At any rate, Remus wouldn't feel comfortable rummaging through James's belongings.

He was certain that Severus had already tried a Summoning Charm, but Remus raised his hand nonetheless and commanded, "Accio Severus Snape's wand!"

Nothing flew into his hand, but he heard a rattling from the corner of the room. It appeared to be coming from somewhere near the window. Remus approached the noise and crouched down on the floor. Cocking his ear to the stones, he heard a soft scratching.

"Wingardium leviosa?" he tried, pointing his wand at the stone from which the scratching seemed to be emanating.

At once the stone lifted itself, and a wand sprung from the foundation below into his waiting hand. Remus examined it carefully: the wand was indeed Severus's. It had a scorch mark on the handle, as if James and Sirius had tried to burn it. And there were splinters along one side, although the wand itself appeared to be as sturdy as ever. It seemed strange holding the wand of another student, but it was especially weird knowing that its owner was Severus Snape. He felt as if he were reading someone's private journal, or spying. It felt dangerous, handling this thing, so he quickly pocketed it and looked at it no more.

Remus gathered his books for the day's classes and hurried downstairs to the Great Hall. The magical sky inside the hall was a threatening, heavy gray, with swirling clouds and daggers of lightning slashing low over the breakfast tables, causing students to start and duck. Raking his eyes over the Gryffindor table, he saw that Lily wasn't there. He swiped a piece of toast, wrapped it in a napkin, and skirted over to the opposite side of the room. He quickly spotted Severus, eating alone and reading his Potions textbook at the Slytherin table.

Pocketing the toast in his bag, he leaned over Severus's shoulder and said quietly, "A word?"

Severus turned jerkily and glared at him. His nose was repaired, although it was still as hooked and hawk-like as ever. Remus immediately averted his eyes to the white tablecloth; he had no desire to see more of Snape's history flashing through this mind.

"Our little chat yesterday does not make us friends," Severus observed unnecessarily. The rancor in his voice nearly made Remus turn on his heel and walk away. But a Hogwarts student couldn't manage his classes without a wand, and Severus had already been without his for a whole day.

"I have something of yours," Remus reminded him.

Severus was still for a few seconds, then he briskly wiped his hands on his napkin, took another sip from a cup of very dark tea, and slid his chair back so quickly that Remus had to dodge being bumped by it.

Severus walked with purpose toward the doors of the Great Hall, and Remus followed. He glanced toward the Gryffindor table and saw Sirius and Peter watching him with something like alarm on their faces. Peter said something, and immediately James was watching him follow Severus out of the Great Hall, as well. Remus turned his gaze back to the skinny, hunched figure in front of him. He would explain later.

Severus led him into classroom eleven and whirled to face him. Remus produced the wand, presenting it flat on the palm of his hand, and Severus stared at it.

"It's been burned," he intoned.

"Yes," said Remus.

Severus started to reach for the wand, then hesitated. His fingers hovered motionless over Remus's. "How do I know they haven't tampered with it?"

Remus hadn't considered this possibility. "Erm, I don't know. I don't think they would have. It looks to me like they wanted to destroy it, nothing more. They don't know I've found it. In fact, they don't even know that I know about the incident at all."

Severus's silence was heavy with deliberation. Remus waited, staring at his own hand, the battered wand in it.

"How do I know _you_ haven't tampered with it?" Severus demanded smoothly. Remus felt his eyes on him, penetrating him.

Remus's arm remained stiffly extended, the wand lying innocently on his palm. Severus's fingers lingered over Remus's hand, as if the wand were a piece of fruit he was about to pluck from a waiting branch, if only he could decide whether he was hungry. If anyone had been watching, they would have thought the two young men had been Petrified and stuffed into the empty classroom as a joke. Resolutely, Remus raised his gaze to Severus's.

"See for yourself," he said flatly.

Severus's brow twitched for a split second; it could have been confusion Remus saw in that movement, or mistrust, or triumph. Then Severus's eyes narrowed and Remus felt the memory of finding the wand this morning sailing past his own eyes, racing toward the dark ones in front of him.

Remus squirmed, felt his head turning away. "That's the last time," he muttered, breaking his gaze before anything else seeped past the floodgates. He had to see Dumbledore, and soon.

Severus smirked. "How trusting of you," he jeered, and he dropped his hand.

Remus felt himself flush. "Take your wand, Severus."

There was a pause.

"No, I don't think I will."

Remus stared at Severus. The smile he wore was ugly, defiant.

"I went to Ollivander's yesterday afternoon. I found another wand, one perhaps better suited to my … _needs_." Severus regarded Remus with curiosity. "You didn't think I'd trust you to return this to me, did you?"

"Just take it," Remus said again, feeling his heart pounding with anger. His hand was beginning to shake, and now he had to clasp the wand to keep from dropping it.

"I don't need it anymore." Severus folded his arms; he was clearly enjoying having the upper hand.

"Severus – "

"I have a wand, you idiot."

In a flash, Remus dropped his book bag and shoved Severus hard against the wall. He forced the wand into Severus's resisting hand.

"Now you have _two_," Remus growled. He snatched his bag and stalked out of the classroom, breathing heavily, barely seeing where he was going. As he made a sharp turn past the doorway, his shoulder collided with Peter's. Without a doubt, he had been eavesdropping for James and Sirius.

Remus advanced on Peter, who cowered against the doorjamb, his small eyes squinting as if he expected to be struck. "Spying on me, are you, Peter?" Remus spat through gritted teeth. "Did you get anything good?" He wheeled away and pounded toward the Transfiguration classroom, wanting nothing more than to be away from everyone he knew.

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Hard rain pelted the school all day. The weather was so disagreeable that the students either chose to remain inside or, if they had classes outdoors, complained bitterly as they hastened toward Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology. Drying spells were cast liberally, but unfortunately they did nothing to raise the spirits of those waiting for the driving rain to cease.

The rain suited Remus's foul mood perfectly. In each of his classes he sat near his friends, as usual; but he spoke not a word. He made his face as blank as he possibly could, not wishing to grace Peter with the gratification of a scowl. He could feel James's and Sirius's eyes boring into him, but he did not return their gaze. He'd had enough mind penetration for one day; and, frankly, he didn't care to read their thoughts, not now, not ever.

In the dark Potions classroom, Slughorn submitted a tricky assignment that involved some critical thinking on the part of the students. They were to figure out, on their own, what single ingredient to add to a completed Invigoration Draught that would cause the Potion to simulate a Strengthening Solution. The result would be weaker than the actual Strengthening Solution, but would serve in a pinch. The purpose of this, Slughorn had explained on the blackboard, was to brew a bit of physical strength in a hurry, as the Strengthening Solution took several days to mature. One by one the students poured in, read the written instructions on the blackboard, and immediately set to work on their Invigoration Draughts.

Severus, standing at the table he shared with Lily, had apparently arrived early; he was already lining up ingredients for the draught, his dark brow knitted. When Lily entered the classroom, however, she sauntered straight past Severus and set her bag down beside a table usually shared by three other Gryffindor students. The students raised their eyebrows but said nothing as she glanced at the board and began selecting and arranging her own ingredients in her small space, her face hardened impassively, like wax.

Remus stole a glance at Severus. His black eyes stared, almost in a daze, about four feet in front of him, at what had until today been Lily's half of the table. The only indication that he was in the least flummoxed by Lily's snub was a rapid blinking of his eyes; but he quickly brought his focus back to his own jars and vials, his jaw firmly set. He seemed very small and insignificant at the long table by himself, and Remus couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction that Lily wasn't about to forgive Severus for his malicious meddling. She still wore her blouse buttoned high, with the Gryffindor tie firmly knotted. He knew, with a weight in stomach, that it would be a while before that bruise healed. But he also knew that he could kiss it until it did.

Near the end of the class, Remus gazed into his successful Invigoration Draught, which was a shade of golden yellow, thin and soupy. He thought the appropriate ingredient to add at this point might be pomegranate juice, which happened to be an ingredient used in Strengthening Solutions and well-known for its salubrious properties. As usual, however, Remus intended to ruin the potion to escape Slughorn's attentions, just in case pomegranate juice was indeed the necessary ingredient. He simply couldn't bear the thought of the professor gushing over him in front of everyone and inviting him to tomorrow's party. He reached into his pocket and took a small handful of cornstarch from the little bag hidden there. When he was certain no one was watching, he tossed the teaspoonful into his cauldron and stirred it.

Immediately, the entire potion thickened into a pudding-like consistency, and the color deepened into a carrot orange. It smelled rather pleasant, like the yam casseroles his grandmother made at Christmas. Remus stared at it in surprise.

He darted his eyes toward Severus, who had added pomegranate juice, probably for the same reasons Remus would have done so. Severus's mixture was the color of tobacco juice and smelled like sour milk. He looked daggers into the cauldron, as if by sheer force of will he could morph the potion into something more successful.

When all the students were finished, Professor Slughorn slithered over to Remus and, just as he feared, went into raptures.

"Well done, well done! How on earth did you think to use cornstarch to approximate the Strengthening Solution?" Slughorn asked, a toothy grin splitting his plethoric face.

"Er, it's a thickener?" Remus was grateful that the professor didn't seem to notice that there was no jar of cornstarch on Remus's table.

As predicted, Slughorn invited Remus to his Friday evening soiree; but Remus, borrowing Lily's graceful tactics, said he already had plans. After all, the four friends and Lily were to meet again to brainstorm about how to find the Greyback manor. Once more he felt the eyes of his friends eating holes through him, but still he ignored them.

After cleaning up, it was time for lunch. There was no avoiding a confrontation now. As they headed to the Great Hall, James and Sirius flanked Remus, while Peter skulked behind. The storm raged as hard as ever outside. Through the arched windows, lightning splintered the sky and seemed to follow the four's progress down the corridor.

"All right, what's all this about?" Sirius demanded.

"I might ask you and James the same," Remus replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"Are you and Snivellus old mates now?" James asked, a threat lurking under his tone.

"Why don't you ask Peter?" Remus whirled and glared at Peter, who flinched, his eyes wide. As Remus stared at him he saw Peter, as a rat, watching Lucius Malfoy speak to the Death Eaters in the Hog's Head. He heard snatches of eloquent language about the glory one could enjoy under the protection of Lord Voldemort. Quickly Remus turned away and shut his eyes tightly. He opened them, blinked several times, and began walking, faster this time, with Sirius dogging his heels.

"Why did you give Snivellus back his wand?" Sirius growled.

"Why did you _take_ the wand? Why did you try to destroy it? Why did you beat him up? _Why did you go behind my back?_" Remus spat each question venomously. "I thought we were in this together!" But he felt like a hypocrite as he said it, which made him even angrier at them.

Sirius grabbed Remus's shoulders and turned him to face him, and they all stopped walking. Remus kept his eyes on the wall over Sirius's shoulder. Sirius's voice was low and he spoke slowly. "You have no idea what Snivellus is capable of." Suddenly he shook Remus hard. "_Look at me!_"

Involuntarily, Remus shot a glance at Sirius. Once again he was flooded with images – Sirius watching his brother Regulus and Severus Snape in a hushed conversation at the Three Broomsticks, the two brothers in a screaming match in the Black home at Grimmauld Place …

Remus tore his gaze from Sirius and met James's hazel eyes watching him warily. Now he saw James touching Lily's wound, James with his hand on Lily's back and steering her away from Remus in the hallway after they told her everything …

"_I – CAN'T – LOOK AT YOU!_"

Remus wrenched free of Sirius's grasp and pelted down the corridor, his footsteps echoing sharply on the stone walls.

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Remus muttered the password at Dumbledore's office door and bounded up the spiral staircase two at a time. As usual, the professor, sitting quietly behind his desk with a piece of parchment in front of him, didn't seem at all surprised to see him. Remus approached the headmaster and tried to catch his breath. It seemed somehow incongruous that Dumbledore should be so calm while Remus's thoughts whirled like raving Banshees, so he tried to focus his mind.

"Ah! Remus!" Dumbledore said brightly. "I was composing a note to you this very moment. How fortunate that you seem to have read my mind and have arrived unbidden."

Remus, breathing raggedly and clutching his book bag against his chest, almost felt like snickering at Dumbledore's choice of words; but he knew if he started laughing he might become hysterical and never stop. "Sir," he said instead, stiffly, "I hope you will forgive me for not looking at you. It's all too much – "

"Yes, your note told me that you've stumbled upon a new set of talents," Dumbledore said gently. "Please, sit, Remus."

But he couldn't sit just now. Remus let his book bag fall to the floor beside the chair and he stormed from one side of the office to the other, back and forth. His erratic, racing thoughts seemed to be leaving his awkward body behind; he felt almost obliged to pace in order to keep up.

"I don't know what's happening here," he said wildly. "I feel crazy. I can't control this. I don't know what to do. I don't want it!" His throat was closing up and he felt dangerously close to tears. His distracted gaze landed upon the Sorting Hat, and he tried to imagine himself again as an eleven-year-old about to be sorted; he must have been much more afraid then. And this was nothing compared to the terror of his transformations, no matter how used to them he might become. What was he blubbering about now?

"It's all right. I can help you control when it happens, and I can help you be more selective about the memories you extract." Dumbledore paused, tilting his head as he regarded Remus thoughtfully. "I understand your feelings, and they are perfectly normal. As I recall, I felt the same way when I discovered that I was a Legilimens."

Remus stopped pacing and stared at Dumbledore in surprise. So that was how the professor seemed to know so much about Remus! But, remembering his own visions, he furtively looked away; he dared not view whatever secrets hid behind the headmaster's crystalline eyes.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I see you've learned the most basic principle in controlling your Legilimency. But there are other ways."

Remus clutched at hope. "Other ways?" The theoretical books he had perused last night had offered little in the way of practical instruction. He lowered himself into the upholstered chair facing the headmaster's desk.

"The methods are easy to learn, difficult to master … but I am confident that you will master them." Dumbledore stood and crossed around his desk. He moved a pile of papers and leaned against the edge facing Remus. "We may have to have more than a few lessons. You will need to learn Occlumency, as well."

"Thank you, sir." Remus felt relief creeping over him like warm water.

"Legilimency and Occlumency are rare abilities, and it is rarer still for me to see two students developing them at the same time. Strangely enough, you are not my only student of this particular branch of magic at the moment."

"I know," Remus confessed, frowning. "Severus Snape told me to come talk to you about this."

"How interesting!" smiled Dumbledore, gazing at Remus curiously. "Severus has the potential to become a brilliant Occlumens. And I am guessing that you, Remus, might become a first-rate Legilimens. We shall see how this develops. It's all very exciting!"

Remus felt anything but excited, but he managed a nod nevertheless.

Dumbledore went on. "Legilimency would be a valuable asset should you become an Auror."

Suddenly Remus remembered that he should have spoken with Professor McGonagall long ago about the requirements for becoming an Auror. He was silent, feeling a prickly flush on his cheeks at how easily he had pushed the thought from his mind. Truthfully, he doubted that the Ministry of Magic would ever accept a werewolf as an Auror. He was almost positive there had never been an Auror who was a werewolf in the past. If the Ministry performed criminal background checks, then undoubtedly they would scan all the Ministry records and learn about his lycanthropy. Legilimens or not, surely _that_ wouldn't be considered an asset. He was as unlikely to be selected as an Auror as he was to be hired as a teacher. What on earth was he to do after Hogwarts?

Remus buried his fingers in his hair and slumped forward onto his elbows, staring at the floor between his feet. Dumbledore was still for a while, then he pulled up another chair and sat close to Remus.

Dumbledore spoke quietly and soothingly. "As you have already discovered, Legilimency – extracting memories and emotions from another person's mind – depends upon eye contact. Now that your Legilimency has revealed itself so forcefully, I have reason to believe that you are exceptionally skilled."

Remus bristled, still staring at the stones below. "I barely have to look at someone and I start to see things."

"Precisely. And while this may be useful under the appropriate circumstances, it is no doubt rather annoying while one is going about his daily business."

In spite of himself, Remus felt a smile deepen the corners of his mouth.

"One of the things you can do to inhibit your own Legilimency is just what we are doing now."

Remus looked at Dumbledore. He didn't seem to be doing anything.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled. "Put yourself at ease. Memories tend to fly when the Legilimens is feeling emotional. You will have much more command of your abilities when you are able to focus your mind."

Remus's mouth twitched wryly. "Are there ways to control my – emotions?"

"Indeed there are. Shall we begin?"

Remus sat up, took a deep breath, and let it out. "Yes, sir."

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_**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've updated; my computer was down a few days this week! (Grumble, grumble …)**_

_**I hope this chapter answers some questions about Remus's Legilimency. There are some fans (myself included) who suspect that Remus might be a Legilimens/Occlumens, given the way he always seems able to read Harry's mind and the "closed expression" he wears when Snape confronts Harry about the map; but it is not confirmed canon.**_

_**This week's bribe: Anyone who leaves a review gets to pull Remus into classroom eleven for a private wand lesson. (You can decide between the two of you who will be the teacher.) **_


	28. The New Marauder

"Listen, Moony, you know Sirius won't apologize."

Peter had arrived first at the Room of Requirement. He had created a little pub of sorts, complete with low-backed wooden chairs, dark tables, and flickering light from the small oil lamps dotting the old, whitewashed walls. There were no windows. Exposed support beams divided the low, grubby ceiling; each thick chunk of wood could have been hundreds of years old, blackened by centuries of pipe smoke.

"I'm not expecting him to apologize," remarked Remus, placing the Marauder's Map on the grimy, round table. He had brought the map to avoid the five of them getting caught tonight because, frankly, he wouldn't have been surprised if Severus were now spying on them in earnest. He had also brought a World Wide Wizard map of England, and one of London, which he now tossed next to his map.

"And James is still pretty upset about you – well, about Lily getting bitten." Peter's voice followed Remus as he explored the room.

"I know. I don't blame him." Remus paced the perimeter of the pub briefly, then looked behind the bar where several bottles of firewhiskey waited. He balanced five squat glasses between his long fingers, grabbed a bottle, and returned to the table where Peter stood. "I'm not expecting either of them to apologize for pummeling Sniv – _Severus_. Or for taking his wand."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I don't think they're going to."

"As long as they don't expect me to feel guilty for giving his wand back to him," Remus said shortly. "How can a student be expected to get by with no wand?" Remus didn't tell Peter that Severus had already bought another wand; his cheeks still stung when he thought about their little exchange in the empty classroom.

Peter cleared his throat, nervously fingering the maps on the table. "Remus, I – I'm sorry I spied on you. James and Sirius – "

" – put you up to it, I know." Remus poured Peter a firewhiskey, then one for himself. "Just don't make a habit of it. It's not very becoming."

Peter smiled, his small eyes twinkling in the lamplight. "Right," he said. "Pretty is as pretty does, like me Mum always said."

Remus smirked and downed the firewhiskey as quickly as he could manage, making a horrible face as the stuff fumigated his sinuses and burned its way down his esophagus. He would need a little help getting through tonight; he was going to be in the same room with James and Lily, probably for several hours. _Great Merlin, get me through this_. He poured another.

"How did you find out about it anyway?" Peter asked. "The wand and everything, I mean. They didn't even tell me."

Remus was prepared for this question. "_Ve have our vays of extracting information_," he joked in his best guttural German Gestapo voice, tapping his nose and raising his glass. _Whether we want to or not_, he thought ruefully.

Just then Sirius and James burst into the room, pushing a library cart between them piled with _Daily Prophet_ and _Quibbler_ issues. Remus hoped that the others might spot something he had missed, so the boys had snuck the cart out of the library underneath James's invisibility cloak.

"Got over your little fit, Miss Moony?" Sirius needled.

Remus knew better than to let Sirius get under his skin; it would only egg him on. He swallowed his second firewhiskey, shuddering audibly as it scorched his epithelium once more. "Dandy as a rose," Remus retorted cheerfully.

"Then let's get to work," James said, shoveling the papers onto a long table near the wall.

"Priorities, priorities," Sirius reprimanded as he poured himself a firewhiskey. "I've got some catching up to do, apparently." He eyed Remus and cocked his head, reflecting for a moment. "That's a first."

"Hard week," Remus half-lied, replacing his glass on the table. James and Peter downed a glass each while Sirius poured himself a second and a third glass. "But we don't want to get too pissed. We do have work to do."

"If I am to work on a Friday night, you must ply me with drink," Sirius countered, smoothly knocking back his third shot.

Lily entered the room and closed the door quietly behind her. She wore a jade-colored jumper that positively illuminated her eyes, and her hair cascaded onto her shoulders. Remus had to forcibly stop himself from smiling when he saw her, and he hoped he wouldn't start blushing. Lily kept her eyes away from Remus as she briskly greeted everyone and took in the room. She placed her book bag on another small table and busied herself with taking some parchment and a quill and ink from her satchel.

James approached her and leaned against the wall. "How's the bite?" For once he didn't run a hand through his hair when he spoke to her.

"Getting better. It's just a bruise now." Over James's shoulder, Lily's eyes flitted to Remus for a split second. She began to blush.

Remus felt his cheeks prickle in response. He quickly picked up the map of England and turned his back on his companions, pacing the room as he pretended to peruse the area around London. Lily had only just arrived. How on earth was he going to make it through tonight? Two shots of firewhiskey had given him a pleasant, mild buzz; but they did nothing to stop the pounding of his heart. He didn't dare drink more or he might become sloppy, speak to Lily too often, stare at her for too long …

In an attempt to tune out James's and Lily's hushed conversation, he abruptly steered himself toward the piles of newspapers and called for Sirius and Peter to join him. The three of them sat around the table and began shuffling through the issues together, reading aloud passages that referenced the Greybacks. James and Lily were now hunched over the maps at the other table, and Remus valiantly kept his gaze away from them.

"So you've already checked the Floo network?" Peter asked.

"Yes," said Remus. "Twice."

"And the wizard registry at the Ministry of Magic?" pressed Sirius.

"Of course," Remus sighed in exasperation. "Nothing there. It's as if the house never existed."

"And the Ministry records of the murders?"

"Yes," Remus snapped. "But I can't snoop around too much without calling attention to myself. It was a huge cover-up, remember? And before you ask again, yes, we've all checked the Ministry's werewolf registries near us – my parents, you, James, Peter, my grandparents … The man has disappeared."

"Touchy, touchy," Sirius chastised. "This week has been a veritable Remus rollercoaster. First we had Mopy Remus. Then, oh joy of joys, Raging-slash-Maniacal Remus. And now we have the unparalleled pleasure of Surly Remus. You need another drink, my friend."

Remus took a deep breath and steadied himself. Being near James and Lily at the same time was agitating him, and he had no desire for his Legilimency to flare up right now. He accepted the firewhiskey when Sirius thrust it at him. James and Lily approached the table and began picking through the papers. Not for the first time, James was sitting entirely too close to Lily; but Remus could say nothing. He threw back the shot and growled involuntarily. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Whoever this girl is," Sirius began blandly, "you need to ask her out."

_Not this again_. Remus's eyes nearly darted toward Lily, but he somehow he forced them remain on the pile of periodicals in front of him. He felt himself blinking rapidly and tried to keep his face blank. James, of course, dropped his _Quibbler_ and began to smile the moment he heard Sirius teasing Remus. Lily opened a _Daily Prophet _and hid behind it.

"So who is this mystery vixen who's got you moping around?" James prodded, his lopsided grin inching its way up one cheek. Peter scooted his chair closer and grinned expectantly.

"It's no one," Remus replied. "I mean – she's not no one, she's … I mean, there's – it's – I'm _not_ moping around, damn it!"

"You are such a bad liar," Sirius smirked. But his eyes were dead serious, and dangerous. "There must be some reason you haven't asked her out. Has she got the plague?"

"Come on, lay off, Sirius," Remus mumbled.

"Is she as painfully shy as you?"

"No. Now why don't we get back to work – "

James snickered, enjoying the banter, delighting in watching Remus squirm. This was Sirius's specialty, finding ways to make Remus blush; he was like a dog with a bone, unwilling to let go, and Remus was often an easy target when it came to girls. But Remus was beginning to think that this was more than Sirius's usual cut-and-thrust. Sirius picked at his fingernails delicately, avoiding Remus's stare.

"At the risk of sounding, oh, I don't know, gentlemanly … is she already _spoken for_?" His eyes, steely and full of meaning, bored into Remus's.

Lily tossed the paper down, her face impassive though her voice was sharp. "Don't let me interrupt the feeding frenzy, but I have a question for you all."

Remus could have kissed her.

"Yes, love?" Sirius asked innocently, turning his face to her.

"Is there a way to get into Hogsmeade without being seen? Specifically, a way into Honeydukes Sweetshop?"

"Is there ever!" Peter said, leaping up and grabbing the Marauder's Map. "We've been there loads of times already."

"What have you got in mind?" James asked.

Lily spread the blank map over the newspapers. "How does this thing work?"

Remus stood with her, facing her across the long, narrow table. "Point your wand at it and say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' Sirius came up with the password."

Lily tilted her head and smiled down at the parchment, not daring to raise her eyes to Remus's. She drew her wand and uttered the password: "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

The map burst into life, and Remus felt a flutter of pride as he watched Lily's face brighten. She touched the map gingerly, laughing softly as different parts of the castle came into view. She cried out when she saw Professor McGonagall in her bathroom. "This is brilliant," Lily whispered.

Remus flushed. "My granddad helped me – "

"Shut up, Remus," James corrected, shoving his shoulder. "It _is_ brilliant. Take some credit for once, you pathetic old tosser."

Now all five stood huddled around the map. Peter pointed out the secret passage to Honeyduke's through the statue of the humpbacked witch. Lily looked at each of the boys in turn, smiling mischievously. At last she brought her gaze to Remus, her eyes burning there for the briefest of glances.

"Let's go," she said. She folded the map and strode out of the room.

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"Are you going to tell us why we're going to Honeyduke's?" Remus asked once they were all safely inside the passageway.

"It's just a thought," Lily replied. "But it might be worth checking out."

"What's worth checking out?" James trotted up next to her on the right.

"How old was Fenrir when he was bitten?" Lily asked Remus, who remained on her left.

"Seven," Remus replied.

"Aha," Lily said quietly. And she began walking faster.

"What?" Peter called from behind Sirius.

But Lily didn't respond. The boys hurried to keep up. After several long minutes of walking in silence, at last they reached Honeyduke's. It was dark inside, and eerily quiet as they crept through the storage room.

"_Lumos_," muttered Lily, lighting the tip of her wand. "Where is the office?"

"I don't know," said Remus. "Maybe upstairs?"

They found a small door behind the counter. Sirius opened it with an Alohomora Charm. Inside was a large wooden desk with some piles of paperwork on it – order forms, bills, pay stubs for employees and delivery people. A framed portrait of Madam Honeyduke hung on the wall over the desk. She dozed quietly, her snores buzzing through the room. Remus silently pointed at the portrait and mouthed, "That's Adelaide Honeyduke." The others stared at the portrait for a few moments. Remus wondered again whether the lady had actually died peacefully in her sleep, as the papers had said.

"Er, not to state the obvious," Peter began in a whisper, "but why don't we just ask _her_ where the house is?"

"What, after we explain why we've broken into her shop in the middle of the night, or before?" James whispered back.

Sirius nodded. "I hear that Azkaban isn't nearly as glamorous as people say it is."

On the opposite wall was a long set of file cabinets. Lily went straight to the drawer marked with a "G" and opened it.

"Ta-da!" she intoned quietly. "Greyback. The last thirty years." She whipped out a thick file and turned to face the others with a look of victory on her face. Remus grinned at her. This woman was fantastic.

She sat on the floor and opened the file, carefully turning each page face down after she glanced at it. The boys gathered behind her, hands on knees, wands lit so that they all could see more easily.

"These Greyback people had some pretty big parties early on," Lily observed. The handwriting on each order form was a small, round cursive; and the signature at the bottom of each page was the same: _Adelaide Honeyduke_. In the middle of each form, there was a red handstamp: _Delivery_. Underneath each red stamp, there was another scrawled name; it was probably the delivery person's signature. There were dozens of orders for sweets galore to be delivered to a house whose name had been blotted out at the top in dark, magical ink. Page after page, the same dark blot. It was unreadable even when held up against the light of a wand, and no spell would wipe the ink from the page.

"What year was Fenrir bitten?" Lily asked.

Remus thought for a moment. "1952."

Lily quickly paged ahead and flipped through more forms. The orders were fewer now, requesting smaller batches of sweets, chocolates, and candies to be delivered to the unknown address. Only one or two modest deliveries per year were requested now. The same cursive signature approved each delivery, and the same scrawled name appeared under each _Delivery_ stamp.

Until the twenty-fourth of November, 1954.

Perhaps the usual deliveryman was out sick that day. On that day in November, a new, angular signature appeared underneath the stamp. Lily turned the form over. There was writing on the back, in the same, squarish handwriting as the unfamiliar signature's: _No. 9 Old Norn Way, Manchester. Merzi, etc._

"Yes," Lily breathed.

Remus sat down on the floor, hardly daring to believe that Lily, after all his months of searching, had found the address in one night. She glanced at Remus and smiled.

"There's the location," James said, leaning over her head. "But what's this '_merzi'_ thing?"

"A misspelling of the French for 'thank you,' maybe – _merci?_" mused Remus.

The group was silent for a moment, considering.

"Could it be a plant, or an herb?" Lily wondered. "Maybe a potion would enable the visitor to see or enter the house."

All was quiet once more.

"It couldn't be a Fidelius Charm," reasoned Remus. "The person who wrote this was a deliveryman. The Greybacks wouldn't have entrusted their secret with a deliveryman."

"I agree," Lily nodded. "They didn't need a completely secret hiding place if they were still getting shipments of sweets on a regular basis. Sweets aren't exactly essential, are they?"

"Might be an incantation," offered James.

"Or a password," Sirius murmured. "And incomplete, from the looks of it. '_Et cetera_.' Why the hell couldn't he have written the whole thing out?"

"I suppose he had to memorize it, like the other fellow before him," Peter offered.

"What sort of charm _is_ this?" frowned Remus.

"We'll figure it out," Lily said firmly.

"There's no doubt in my mind," Remus said with sincerity. "How on earth did you think to check here?"

"Children love candy," said Lily, an impish grin on her lips. "Even children who are werewolves."

Remus smiled back. Suddenly he realized that the room had been dead quiet for several minutes; there was no snoring from Madam Honeyduke's portrait. He darted a glance toward the portrait, but her eyes had snapped shut.

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_**A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. Real life stuff (all good, thankfully!) has gotten in the way. I am indeed planning to finish this story, as long as there is at least a handful of people who are interested in seeing how it ends.**_

_**This week's bribe: All who leave a review can raid the Honeydukes chocolate counter with the Marauder of your choice!**_


	29. A Better Fate Than Wisdom

Remus awoke early on Saturday morning and remained under the warmth of the covers for some time, relishing the feeling of having enjoyed a dreamless sleep. Without feeling the anxiety that many of his dreams left behind, he felt blissfully blank, full of potential. Today he would meet Lily at the dragon's burial mound for their picnic, their first actual date. He began to stir and stretch, smiling contentedly. It was still early, and the bed tower was full of the soothing quietude that only the innocent sounds of sleeping people can bring. He pushed back the bed curtains and listened for a few minutes, allowing himself to be lulled by the sounds of gentle breathing and the soft buzz of snores, trying not to think too hard about who, exactly, was sleeping while he eagerly anticipated his date. Eventually he got up and dressed in silence, observing how the dim, grey morning light made everything look somehow less tangible, less harsh.

His friends still slept, and Remus was grateful for the solitude. Although they had come to an uneasy truce last night, he had to admit he probably trusted James and Sirius a little less now. He could forgive Peter for snooping; he had only done what James and Sirius had asked him to do. So, typically, no one apologized and everyone forgave, more or less. Apparently this round of fighting about Severus was over.

But last night Sirius was hinting at something. He must suspect that Remus had feelings for Lily; in fact, Remus was almost sure of it. The flashes of Legilimency this week certainly revealed a suspicion lurking in Sirius's thoughts. He wondered if Sirius suspected Lily of returning Remus's feelings. Last night's needling had been directed solely at Remus, but hadn't Sirius wondered out loud what Lily was doing in the Room of Requirement after Remus's transformation? Clearly James had no clue, and Sirius hadn't told him of his suspicions. Remus and Lily would have to be careful. He couldn't bear to sacrifice such bliss now that he had tasted it, not for fear of Sirius's interfering, not even – as much as it shamed him to admit it – not even for his love for James. He thought of Lily's wish for a life with no regrets, and he hoped that he would have none. He sighed, trying to shove worry from his mind.

Thankfully, after two lessons from Professor Dumbledore, Remus was already having an easier time controlling his Legilimency; he would see the headmaster again next week to continue working on Legilimency and to begin addressing Occlumency. Remus now spent part of each day meditating and focusing his mind, and it seemed to carry over to his interactions with others. He'd seen fewer memories after two days of practice, and he felt hopeful that one day he would have complete mastery of it.

Quietly, Remus opened his trunk and retrieved the blank piece of parchment he sought. Then he bounded down the stairs to the Common Room and sank onto the sofa, opening the map and quietly activating it, searching for secret passages he and his friends hadn't discovered yet. It would help to pass the time until noon when he would finally see Lily again, finally be alone with her. A thrill coursed through his body, and he let his mind wander into fantasies about kissing her, feeling her body against his. Perhaps they would go to the Quidditch match together later, after their picnic. They would sit innocently side by side, not touching, casting furtive glances at one another as they shouted for the Gryffindor team. Thinking of the team reminded him, of course, of one player in particular. Guilt niggled its way momentarily into his heart. Remus frowned.

Perhaps instead he and Lily could stay on the hill all afternoon. His reverie quickly blossomed into one that made his cheeks flush as he started to imagine things they hadn't done yet. He hoped he would be able to figure out what to do if their kissing did escalate into something more. Although he wasn't entirely ignorant, his experience with Elphaba last year had been limited to extended periods of snogging and groping. He had read a couple of books about sex; and, of course, he had perused his share of Playwizard issues. But his main source of practical information about how to pleasure a woman was Sirius, who was quite the blabbermouth until October when Prudence Perdue cast a muteness spell on him that lasted a week. After that, Sirius was disturbingly discreet, even around his friends. At any rate, Remus wasn't certain he trusted him; it would be just like Sirius to give Remus misleading information about feminine preferences, just so he could laugh at his post-coital mortification.

In spite of himself, curiosity got the better of him and he looked into the girls' dormitory on the map. There was the miniature Lily. He smiled at the tiny figure, thankful that it didn't look more like her; he already felt like a spy. No, he _was_ spying. He decided to make it up to her later by bringing the map and letting her do her own spying. That was reasonable enough, he thought, although to be perfectly fair he should allow her to spy on _him_. He watched the figure pacing, back and forth, back and forth, first to the girls' bathroom, then to the bedchamber, then back to the bathroom, over and over again, pausing now and then in the bathroom, then hurrying back to the bedchamber. What was she doing? He was reminded of his grandmother gussying herself up, trying on different outfits and modeling them for the family in the living room the afternoon before her fortieth wedding anniversary party. Remus swallowed. Was Lily primping … for her date with _him_? At eight o'clock in the morning? He quickly deactivated and closed the map, feeling that perhaps he should make more of an effort to look nice. He stood and stole a glance at himself in the mirror over the fireplace. He ran a hand through his fringe, but it fell back into his eyes immediately. He briefly considered changing into different clothes; but then he reminded himself that they were going on a picnic, not to the opera. He paced the Common Room for a solid five minutes before finally forcing himself to go downstairs for breakfast.

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Remus arrived first, carrying a blanket and a large paper sack. He trudged up the burial mound, his long strides covering the ground quickly. When he reached the top, he stood still, looking around at the treetops. He could feel the warmth of the ground slowly seeping upward into the bottoms of his jeans. He set the sack down and spread the blanket on the grass, silently thanking the dead dragon beneath the earth for providing some heat on this crisp April afternoon.

The sack was filled with items the house elves had shoveled into it. Remus had gone to the Hogwarts kitchen an hour ago, asking for two cucumber sandwiches and pumpkin juice. Instead, the house elves had provided two plates, two sandwiches with thinly-sliced beef and spicy mustard, three kinds of cheese and a little knife, two apples and a paring knife, two chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons, and four bottles of butterbeer. Remus had sputtered his thanks as the house elves, smiling and waving, shooed him out of the kitchen.

Now he removed the items and spread them in the center of the blanket, trying to set a pleasing arrangement. He rearranged the plates and the food items several times while he waited for Lily, smiling at his own nervousness. Then he reclined on the blanket, crossing his ankles and leaning back on his elbows.

As soon as he had settled back, Lily rounded the top of the hill. Remus stood immediately and waited for her to join him. His heart began a tap dance and he smiled broadly, glad that he wouldn't have to watch his behavior around her for the next few hours. She beamed when she saw him, and his insides did a tumble.

"'Lo," he said, still grinning.

"Wow," Lily remarked as she neared the picnic Remus had laid out. She was slightly out of breath from her hike up the steep hill, and her cheeks were pink. "Where did you get all this?"

"House elves," Remus replied, his heart swelling with the pleasure of knowing that he had impressed her with the picnic. "Another secret passage we discovered leads into the kitchens. I brought the map, in case you wanted to look at it some more."

"Really?" Lily looked up at him. "Thanks, I'd like that."

They gazed at each other for a long moment, smiling. A breeze whipped Lily's hair across her face, and she pushed it aside.

"You know, I wanted to kiss you the last time we were here," Remus confessed.

"I know," Lily said cheekily. Then she lowered her eyes. "Me, too."

"I know," Remus retorted with a grin. Lily reached out to poke him in the ribs, but he deftly grabbed her hand and kissed her palm lightly; keeping his eyes on hers, he watched her smile broaden. He lowered her hand, still holding it warmly inside his. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," she breathed. "I mean _yes_! Lunch. Right." Lily flushed, laughing.

As they sat down facing each other, Remus reflected that he seemed to make Lily as nervous as she made him. It was a thrilling realization, and he basked in the knowledge as he served her a sandwich. They chatted easily, taking their time over lunch. Remus peeled an apple, cut it into wedges, and placed several on Lily's plate. Lily sliced a few hunks of cheese and offered them to Remus. The butterbeers put them at their ease, and soon they were lying on their sides, each propped up on an elbow as they munched and talked. Large, fluffy clouds sat high in the sky, nudged slowly along by the breeze. Lily's face looked relaxed, contented; and Remus felt he could stay up here forever.

"Tell me something about when you were a little girl," Remus said.

Lily laughed. "Not much to tell. I liked horses, I wore pink and purple to excess, and I had a huge crush on the Beatles."

"All of them at once?"

"Well," Lily blushed, "I was partial to John and George."

"Impressive," Remus smiled. "I would have pegged you for a Paul girl."

"Eww, too pretty."

Remus had to admit he felt a bit relieved. "And too predictable," he agreed. "John was the smart-aleck, and – "

" – and George was the one you could never quite figure out." Lily's eyes sparkled as she spoke, her silky eyelashes catching the sunlight.

"I can see why you liked them," Remus managed over the thudding of his heartbeat.

"Can you?" Lily asked coyly. Suddenly Remus had the sense that they weren't exactly talking about the Beatles anymore. He felt his cheeks begin to burn and his lips suddenly tingled with the desire to kiss her. But then Lily brushed some crumbs off her jumper and went on.

"My sister Petunia and I used to play together. But instead of Cops and Robbers, it was the Beatles versus the Rolling Stones. I was always the Beatles."

"All of them at once?" Remus asked again.

"Suspend your disbelief," Lily laughed.

"How, exactly, does one play Beatles versus Stones?" he asked seriously.

"We would pretend we were on a television game show and have them compete against each another."

"How ordinary," Remus mourned with a smirk. "I was expecting mortal combat. Machine guns disguised as guitars and whatnot."

"Sorry to disappoint," Lily smiled. "But we _were_ ordinary, my parents and Petunia and me. Until I was about five years old." She lay back on the blanket and put her hands behind her head, looking straight up at the sky.

"Let me guess: accidental magic."

"Mm-hmm," Lily nodded. "Petunia – she was nearly seven, I think – she and I would climb the hill behind our neighborhood and lie on the grass. We would try to pick out shapes in the clouds. You know, like that one up there is shaped like a handbag." She pointed.

Remus looked up and saw it, then brought his gaze back to Lily.

"Petunia always saw more shapes than I could. And like a lot of older siblings, I guess, she enjoyed rubbing my nose in it. Then one day she told me she could make the clouds move. Of course, she was my older sister, so I believed her. I never thought about the wind moving the clouds."

"Of course not," said Remus.

"So I concentrated really hard, and I made something happen. There was a cloud that was shaped like a rabbit. I gave it vampire teeth and made it attack her cloud."

Remus snickered. "Brilliant."

"Petunia screamed and ran home, even though she wasn't supposed to leave me alone. She got into a lot of trouble for it. I stayed up on the hill. I was terrified … but fascinated at the same time. I couldn't believe _I_ was actually doing it. I mean, weird things had happened around me before – but nothing like this. I stood there and kept moving that cloud for about half an hour. I don't even want to know what the neighbors thought if they happened to look up. Finally Mum came and got me. She must have seen the cloud while she climbed the hill. I remember her standing there on the summit with me, holding my hand and staring up at the sky. She said, 'Do it again.' But her voice shook when she said it, so I didn't. I didn't move the cloud anymore."

"Hmm." Remus wrapped a strand of Lily's hair around his index finger. She turned her focus toward him.

"Mum and I laugh about it now," she smiled. "But they're Muggles, and so was _I_, as far as I knew; so of course it was fairly traumatic for us all at the time."

"I can imagine," Remus agreed.

"I think my grandmother called the priest, but he was ill at the time. So no exorcism, lucky me."

Remus chuckled grimly. "But if that was your first bit of semi-controlled magic, it's pretty impressive."

Lily frowned and looked up once more. "I guess it was. I never thought about it." She sat up again on her elbow. "What about you? What was yours?"

Remus cleared his throat. "Erm … fire."

"What?" Lily laughed.

"All I can say is I'm glad my parents weren't Muggles. At least they were prepared for – well, _something_."

"Great Merlin, what happened?"

"Well … I was four, I think. I was obsessed with Godzilla at the time, thanks to my gran taking me to the cinema; and I had a big plastic dinosaur I played with constantly. My dad had set up some cardboard boxes in the back yard as a city for my Godzilla to demolish. I moved Godzilla through the little streets, growling and shrieking and pretending to crush the buildings and all the tiny imaginary people. But I really, really wanted my Godzilla to breathe fire. And all of a sudden, he did. It was blue. The flames were neon blue. And all the boxes caught fire. So did Godzilla's face. I was thrilled. I hollered for joy while dad rushed over to put the flames out."

By this time, Lily was giggling helplessly.

"Mum thought it was hilarious, too," Remus quipped. "Granted, it only took about ten years for her to think it was funny, but she eventually did. Of course, it didn't help that I kept _trying_ to make things breathe fire. I was pretty obstinate."

"You?" Lily feigned shock.

"Believe it or not," Remus grinned. "Typical four-year-old in many, many ways. I was cured of that little fixation when I singed my pet rabbit Dylan's whiskers trying to make _him_ breathe fire. Poor thing quivered whenever I came into the room after that. I felt terrible. I'm convinced that was the beginning of my over-developed sense of guilt."

"Dylan?" Lily asked, biting into a macaroon.

"My gran – she was a writer – gave him to me. She named him after Dylan Thomas, although I didn't realize that until much later."

"Tell me about her," said Lily.

Remus took a macaroon and told Lily about his grandparents' meeting for the first time in Argentina while they both visited from England, and how her Muggle relatives initially hadn't approved of their quick courtship and marriage. He described how his grandmother had introduced him to books and poetry at a young age, which later had helped him keep his mind off his lycanthropy after Greyback attacked him when he was nearly seven.

"Over the next four years, I'd spend months at a time reading, especially in the summer," he said. "Until I came to Hogwarts, my parents were worried I'd never come out of my room."

Lily picked at a bit of dead grass, watching Remus thoughtfully. "What kinds of books did you read?"

"Oh, everything. A lot of fiction, in the beginning. Science fiction, fantasy, mysteries, American westerns. Mostly adventure stories. Anything where the lead was trying to get rid of the bad guy. I guess I know now why those were the books I wanted."

"Yeah," Lily sighed, tracing the back of Remus's hand with a blade of grass. Her brow furrowed and she was silent.

"But we have plenty of time to talk about all that," Remus said briskly. "I promised myself I wasn't going to get all introspective on our first date."

Lily suddenly smiled. "I like your introspective nature."

"I suppose that's a good thing," Remus blushed. "It's not likely to change at this point."

"Yeah, seventeen is _so old_," she laughed.

"Sometimes it feels that way," he replied. Then he flopped back on the grass and clapped both hands over his mouth. His voice was a muffled plea. "There I go again. Please shut me up."

Lily complied immediately by lowering her face to his, nuzzling his hands away, and planting a long, slow kiss on his mouth. Remus couldn't have spoken after that if his life depended on it.

"There. Better?"

Remus nodded. He tucked an arm behind his head and reached up with the other hand to gather a handful of Lily's hair in his fingers. He drew it across his lips, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

Lily's soft gaze remained on him and, despite himself, he saw Lily looking at him, Lily _seeing_ him, right now … and he felt a sudden, powerful tug of emotion that had nothing to do with the pounding of his own heart. Lily thought him witty, and interesting, and intelligent, and – handsome? And he did look content in her presence, he had to admit. Somehow his scars didn't seem quite as garish as he thought, or his face as pale. How strange, to regard oneself through another's eyes. How accurate was the picture she gave him? Was it embellished by her own feelings? Or was he in truth all the things she was feeling in her heart right now, right at this moment? As he tried to analyze what he was seeing, he realized that, for the second time today, he was acting like a spy.

Remus tried to shake himself out of her thoughts without breaking eye contact. The attempt was successful, although he felt as if he had slipped backwards down a hall whose marble floors had just been mopped. But Lily's eyes pulled him back immediately and she kissed him again, her eyes open and locked on his. The ground seemed to be tilting, as if it were about to dump him off the surface of the earth into the stratosphere somewhere. He couldn't look away; but her gaze, and the images he saw there, made him squirm. With a dull thrill he felt Lily pinning him to the ground with her body, and the spinning subsided somewhat. Her eyes continued to penetrate his, made him see what she saw. It was a heady and dangerous feeling, one that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around. Now he felt as though he were being tossed in a tumultuous sea, one that could easily capsize his little boat, with him and Lily in it, if it only wanted to. Kissing Lily and watching himself be kissed by her, caressing her soft form while simultaneously registering the sensations his touch ignited in her, feeling her emotions and her desire while his own raged and tumbled within him – it was almost more than he could bear.

His breath caught in his throat. Sudden, hot tears sprang to his eyes and he shut them immediately, so Lily wouldn't see.

Twenty minutes later, when Remus finally opened his eyes as they lay there, panting and alive and pleasantly frustrated, he noticed that all the clouds in the sky had somehow wafted down to where they lay on the grass, enveloping the couple in their dewy embrace.

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_**A/N: The title is from a poem by e.e. cummings, which to me pinpoints the downfalls of too much thinking in matters of love. I couldn't bring myself to have Remus quote another poem in the chapter, so here it is:**_

_since feeling is first _

_who pays any attention _

_to the syntax of things _

_will never wholly kiss you;_

_wholly to be a fool _

_while Spring is in the world_

_my blood approves, _

_and kisses are a better fate _

_than wisdom _

_lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry _

_-- the best gesture of my brain is less than _

_your eyelids' flutter which says_

_we are for each other: then _

_laugh, leaning back in my arms _

_for life's not a paragraph_

_and death i think is no parenthesis_

_**Thanks, everyone, for reading and reviewing. As always, those who review get a special treat. This week's special is a picnic with the werewolf of your choice, plus or minus Legilimency.**_


	30. Passages

_Remus watched his grandparents dance. _

_He was at his father's parents' fortieth wedding anniversary at age eleven, just before he was to leave for Hogwarts. He hadn't been able to sleep very well the last few nights and was glad for the opportunity to stay up late with his family and their small group of friends. The Hogwarts Express left tomorrow, and he doubted he would sleep at all tonight. _

_Remus sat at a table with his parents and some of his grandparents' friends. The adults spoke in low tones with glistening eyes, although he didn't know if the shimmer was from emotion or the from the glasses of wine they had all been drinking throughout the evening. Remus ate his cake slowly, methodically, saving the chocolate frosting for last, to savor it and to make certain he could remain at the party; surely as long as he was still eating they would let him stay up. The candles were getting low; but people continued to dance and hold lively conversations throughout the rented room, and he didn't want to miss anything._

_As his eyes followed his grandparents around the dance floor, he felt an outpouring of love for them. The couple had mastered the art of the Argentine tango while they were in Buenos Aires, during their short, passionate courtship and the first months of their marriage. They had learned it when they were in their twenties, when their knees didn't protest going up and down stairs, when books didn't have to be held at arm's length. But even today, the subtle dance suited them. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek, they glided across the room, as if there were no one else there. The dark mahogany wood floor was as smooth as the surface of a still, black lake, across which the couple skimmed as gracefully as skaters. And when each tune reached its sudden end, his grandparents paused, motionless and smiling at each other, and waited for the next piece to begin._

_The music from the Muggle phonograph was tinny sounding. The voices of the violin, clarinet, and piano surged and retreated, a clamor of notes steadily traveling to the listener's ears through fits and starts, as if the instruments were confident that they must play together but were uncertain about how much they should trust one another. If one instrument hesitated, then the others shrank; if another swelled, the others boldly followed suit, strengthening the sound. It seemed infinitely sad, Remus thought, and yet one had to listen to it. There was always a sudden halt at the end of each piece of music, a sharp arrest, as if the musicians had unexpectedly disappeared from the world of the living, as if the dancers had been caught in the act of something forbidden, as if someone, somewhere had been slapped in the middle of having too much fun. _

_Suddenly the room shifted and Remus was no longer eleven, no longer surrounded by his family. He now found himself standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching Lily and James, two lone dancers on the empty floor; but instead of dancing a waltz, as they must have done the night of the Yule dance, tonight they, too, danced the Argentine tango._

_They barely touched, yet they danced together as if they had been born to do so. James's hand hovered over the small of Lily's back, gently leading her this way and that, and she followed without hesitation. Lily's left hand draped across the back of James's neck, almost protectively, it seemed; and her delicate right hand rested in his left as though it finally realized it had traveled too far and welcomed the resting place. Cheek to cheek, they danced, James's alert eyes traveling the room as if he were making note of other, invisible dancers and carefully guiding them through the throng. Lily's gaze was lowered, in complete trust, to James's shoulder; she did not once raise her eyes. As they traveled, chest-to-chest, across the room, it was as though they were not two bodies navigating a dance floor, but two hearts moving bodies through space and time._

_The music abruptly ceased. James and Lily, almost as if they had anticipated the end and were not in the least surprised, halted in their steps, frozen. Rooted to the spot and feeling suddenly uneasy, Remus saw their eyes moving, as if they were listening as hard as they could for the next tune. But it never came._

Remus lurched forward, gasping, clutching at the bedclothes. His eyes darted here and there for several disoriented seconds, and it wasn't until he opened his bed curtains that he remembered where he was. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck and he wiped at it impatiently. It took several moments for the panic to leave him, and he wasn't even certain why he felt so afraid. But before he knew it he was standing and padding silently to James's bed to make sure his friend was all right. Through a crack in the curtains, he saw James's ribcage rising and falling regularly under his T-shirt, his arm crumpling a pillow beneath his torso.

Quietly, Remus opened his trunk and took out the Marauder's Map, immediately searching for Lily. She was in her bed in the girls' tower, probably still sleeping soundly. Nothing was amiss. He forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed and breathe slowly until his heart stopped thundering a drumbeat inside his chest. Feeling agitated, he quickly dressed and descended the staircase, map in hand.

Remus slipped silently through the portrait hole. As an hour remained before breakfast, he decided to explore the fifth floor this morning to take his mind off that strangely awful dream. Besides, it would help to pass the time until eleven o'clock when he would see Lily in Study Hall. The Quidditch match yesterday had been a bit painful. Lily's friend Olivia had pulled her away from Remus, Sirius, and Peter, as apparently Sirius was still considered a Right Sodding Bastard. Remus couldn't blame her for her ire; Sirius had a famous lack of tact when breaking up with girls. He had dumped the strikingly beautiful Vera Hahn quite publicly last year, and had done so supposedly because her laugh sounded like a donkey's braying. But somehow her laugh hadn't stopped Sirius from trying to silence her many, many times with his lips before then.

While he still enjoyed taking walks alone in the woods, Remus also found solace in exploring the castle on his own, discovering secret passages and hidden rooms. The friends had journeyed together many times, of course, taking particular delight in the discovery of the secret entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens and the passageway that led to Honeyduke's Sweetshop in Hogsmeade. But Sirius had quickly tired of Remus's methodical way of surveying the castle and grounds, and the boys often left Remus to his own detailed exploration. He always reported back when he found something he thought would be of interest to James, Sirius, or Peter.

He brought his thoughts back to the map, looking for new doorways and passages. As he neared the fourth door beyond the statue of Boris the Bewildered, he noticed something new. He had used the prefects' bathroom several times, but he hadn't realized there was a passage leading out of it.

"Tiny bubbles," he said to the door. It opened and he entered.

The huge bathtub looked inviting, as usual, with its multitude of taps full of scented bubble baths; but Remus had stopped using the tub when he realized that he wasn't always alone there. Even now his eyes darted around for signs of Moaning Myrtle, the lonely ghost who liked to spy on boys while they were taking their baths. Confident that she was nowhere about, he crossed to the portrait of the mermaid, who winked at him.

The secret passage appeared to be right behind the portrait, but he wasn't sure whether it required a password. At any rate, it felt odd to attempt to open the portrait without a bit of polite conversation.

"Er, hello," Remus said. "How are you this morning?"

The mermaid merely smiled mysteriously.

"I believe that there is a passage just behind you. Would you mind terribly if I passed through?"

The mermaid cocked her head and pierced Remus with a flirtatious glance. Tucking her tail up under her, as if it were skirts, she gestured with an arm toward the left side of the frame.

Remus felt along the side of the frame until he found a handle. He opened the portrait hole and, thanking the mermaid, stepped into the passage.

The corridor felt immediately cold and damp. Remus lit the tip of his wand and walked quickly down the passage. He descended what seemed like several flights of steps and the corridor eventually straightened out again. Reaching out, he felt the stone walls becoming more and more damp as he traveled, and the pungent aroma of algae was unmistakable. It was not altogether an unpleasant scent.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, the air began to smell fresher, and Remus sensed a breeze coming from somewhere above. He stumbled upon some stone steps and began to climb. At last he found himself in the open air flanked closely on all sides by high, white stones. Extinguishing the light from his wand, he looked around for a way to reach the tops of the stones. He discovered some footholds and managed to hoist himself up. When he reached the top, he sat down and realized he was overlooking to the lake. He could have jumped off the stones right into the dark water if he wished. Leaning over to his left, he saw more footholds that would allow a person to climb back up from the lake along the stones, back into to passageway.

"Mischief managed," he uttered, and the map went blank.

Remus pocketed his wand and the map and sat with his arms around his knees, watching the way the breeze wrinkled the lake's smooth surface. Despite the wind, of course, the lake itself, underneath the ripples, would remain unchanged; it would endure for ages, as fathomless as ever. Remus found the thought strangely comforting; so he gazed at the little waves for several minutes, concentrating on letting all worry and care slowly seep from his mind, like water into the stones below. He couldn't wait to bring Lily here; they would sit quietly in each other's company, far away from everyone. He decided he would tell her about the passageway today. He would give her the password to the prefects' bathroom, and she could come here and swim whenever she wanted, day or night, without the worry of being caught. Remus smiled at the thought.

After about a half hour, the breeze began to give him a chill. It was probably time for breakfast anyway, so he climbed back down into the center of the stones and descended the damp steps once more. As he made his way further into the corridor, the darkness enveloped him. He pulled his wand and the map from his pocket.

"Lumos," Remus said, and the tip of his wand burned brightly.

Several feet in front of him, a pair of eyes near the ground reflected the bluish light of his wand. He froze. The eyes approached him and he saw with a start that they belonged to Mrs. Jellicorse, Filch's tattered old cat.

"Well, well, well," Filch's voice chided. "A student. A prefect, no less. What could you possibly be doing in a secret passageway? Trying to sneak off the grounds without permission, I'd wager!"

The caretaker stepped into the light of Remus's wand, and the look of satisfaction on his face was positively grotesque. His mouth quivered and his rheumy eyes raked over Remus's immobile form. Remus's jaw dropped and he inhaled in preparation to respond, but he found that no words would come. Instead, his mind was invaded by a quick flash of a slightly younger Filch paddling a crying student. Remus took a deep breath, let it out, and willed himself to stay calm, to remain detached; soon Filch's memory faded from Remus's mind and his own fright jostled forward once more.

"That poor mermaid was trying to see where you had gone," Filch sneered. "Wretched thing has never been here herself."

"I was only exploring," Remus began. "I was just coming back."

"Students have no right to stick their noses in places where they're not wanted!"

"Sir, I wasn't up to anything –"

Filch's glaring eyes suddenly narrowed as they fell on the map in Remus's hand. "Hello, what's this?" he demanded.

Remus had been so startled by meeting Filch that he had completely forgotten he was holding the map. He glanced quickly at it and felt a wave of relief that he had not activated it yet. "Bit of parchment, that's all."

"Parchment, is it? Doing homework in a secret passage, were you?" Filch mocked in a singsong voice. "Come with me, lad." He took Remus's elbow and forcibly steered him back toward the school.

"Wh-where are we going?" Remus stammered, keeping his eyes on the slippery stones before him.

"Professor Dumbledore will be very interested to hear what you've been up to," smirked Filch. "I'll take that." Quick as a flash, he snatched the map from Remus's shaking hand.

Remus's heart battered inside his chest. While Dumbledore would recognize the map for what it was, he might not feel so kindly once he learned that Remus was indeed using it to search hidden parts of the castle. His friends hadn't goaded him into anything this time; he had no one to blame but himself. He tried not to allow himself to imagine the worst possible scenario – expulsion – but somehow that was the only thought in his head during the entire walk back into the school. Filch muttered and pontificated the entire way, along the damp corridor, up the flights of steps, past the curious mermaid, and out of the prefect's bathroom; but Remus didn't register a word the man said over the rush of blood in his ears. Remus extinguished his wand as the two clomped toward the headmaster's office. He tried to think only of the sounds of their walking, leather on stone, the soft crunch and shift of sand between heel and slab. He watched Mrs. Jellicorse's bent tail waving like a victory flag as she led the way.

As they rounded a corner, they spotted Dumbledore heading straight toward them, a look of concern on his face. Filch began speaking at once.

"Sir, I'm glad to see you. I was on my way to your office with young Mister Lupin." Filch lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "This boy – this _prefect_ – was snooping around the secret passage to the lake – "

Dumbledore spoke gently when he reached them, taking Remus's other elbow and leading him smoothly away from the caretaker. "Thank you, Mister Filch. I will take him from here."

Behind him, Remus heard the papery flutter of Filch waving the map, _Remus's_ map. "But I found him with this parchment! It looks blank, but I think it may be something – "

"Thank you, Mister Filch," Dumbledore replied in the same tone. He kept walking, steering Remus firmly down the corridor, away from Filch and the Marauder's Map. Remus had the distinct feeling that he would never see his map again. He watched the doors sailing past as they made their way to the headmaster's office. He couldn't help thinking that this may be the last time he passed these doors, leaned out of these windows, sat in these familiar classrooms. His body somehow felt not like his body; everything seemed surreal, almost too far away to touch.

When at last they were alone on the revolving spiral staircase inside Dumbledore's rooms, Remus spoke in a rush. "Sir, I'm sorry. I never meant to cause any trouble with that map. It's true, I've been exploring – "

"Remus, I'm not concerned about the map."

Remus looked at him questioningly, his heart still hammering as if it wanted to escape the confines of his chest.

Dumbledore looked gravely at Remus as they reached the top of the staircase. "Your parents are here."

Remus tilted his head and gazed at Dumbledore for another moment, then he stepped from the stairwell into the office. His body felt thick and numb, like it had been wrapped in fabric bands like a mummy, untouchable and immovable. He saw his parents sitting in the two chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, and they turned toward him with faces full of anguish. His father had tears on his cheeks. His mother said Remus's name, but it sounded like it came from under water, muffled and far away. His parents were out of place here; and he stared at them, trying to make sense of their presence. Cold dread oozed into every part of his body and he began to shiver.

He felt Dumbledore step away from him as his mother wrapped her arms tightly around him. Remus kept his eyes on his father, standing helplessly beside the chair. He looked oddly small in his dark robes, his crumpled hat. One of his father's hands twitched and, almost as if the slight movement made him notice that hand again, he used it to wipe his wet face.

"Remus," his mother choked into his ear. "The Dark Mark … Death Eaters went to your grandmother and grandfather's house last night."

Looking into his father's eyes, Remus saw a memory. His father was watching with pride as Remus and Jonathan Lupin hunched over the map on the dining room table over the holiday. Grandmother Margaret hovered in the background offering sandwiches. Christmas carols, sounding tinny and sentimental, played on the old Muggle phonograph in the living room. Remus shut his eyes and the image vanished at once.

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_**A/N: Thanks for your patience as I finished this one!. There's more Remus and Lily coming up soon, and some Peter as well. All who review this chapter can play psychoanalyst and help poor Remus interpret his dream.**_


	31. Maps

At home, Remus sat at the old kitchen table with a cup of tea while his mother prepared dinner. Rowena leaned heavily against the counter while her knives magically cut carrots, potatoes, and onions and sent them flying into the pot of boiling water for the soup. He sipped his tea slowly, and his grandfather's special combination of dark tea leaves and strange spices slipped over his tongue: slippery elm, cardamom, and several other exotic herbs he couldn't put a name to. Remus didn't know how his grandfather had concocted the blend; perhaps he had acquired the recipe during his years of travel when he was a young man. This afternoon, however, nothing tasted as it should. The spices seemed as if they had been left in a closet full of mothballs for months, and the china cup felt too smooth on his mouth. Remus found himself wishing for a nick on the edge of it so that his lip would have something to feel.

The house was muffled in quiet; yet every small sound seemed to declare itself, almost rudely. Clocks continued to tick as if nothing had happened. Floors creaked and protested with more vigor than usual, despite the fact that no one had asked their opinion about being walked on in the first place. Tree branches scratched at the roof and windows, although why they would want to get into a house of mourning Remus had no idea.

Remus and Rowena, who had exhausted all speculation about the deaths of the Lupins several hours ago, finally tired of the gloomy sitting room and shuffled, ghostlike, into the kitchen, which seemed marginally cheerier. Owen had gone this morning with Ministry of Magic officials to Jonathan and Margaret Lupin's house in Wales; he said he might or might not be back in time for dinner. Rowena and Remus had wanted to go with him to the house, but Owen had insisted that they stay at home. Remus guessed that his father hadn't wanted him to see the carnage there and had asked his wife to stay behind to be with Remus. Remus thought his father should have at least allowed Rowena to accompany him, but he didn't have the energy to be upset with him. He was in a daze, as if he were viewing his life from behind a gauzy veil. _Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain_, Remus thought wryly. Then he remembered that that was a line from the Muggle film, _The Wizard of Oz_, which he had seen as a boy with his grandmother Margaret. He blinked rapidly to stop the tears from coming and took several swigs of his hot tea. He didn't care if he scalded his throat.

Remus had wanted to help his mother prepare dinner; but her jaw was set in the manner that told him she needed to busy herself, so he kept out of the way. Another interminable hush stretched before Remus while his mother cooked. He had finally lost track of the number of mind-numbing silences that had crept through the house today. Somewhere around two o'clock this afternoon he had given up counting them and merely observed them, almost as a scientist who has already proven a dreadful hypothesis will read the published works of others and nod with satisfaction when they, too, confirm his theory. He took several more sips of tea, staring disconsolately around the darkening kitchen as the sun began to set. An orange glow splashed his mother's angular profile as he sat in stillness.

Suddenly there was a clatter at the window over the sink and Rowena shrieked. Remus leapt to his feet, spilling his tea, and drew his wand.

"It's all right," his mother sighed, smiling grimly as she placed one hand over her heart. She had drawn her wand, too, Remus noticed; now she replaced it in the pocket of her old yellow apron. "It's just an owl." She opened the window and retrieved several messages tied to its foot. She gave the bird a treat and it took off immediately, its brown wings beating lazily as it soared away from the house toward the low, golden sun.

Remus pocketed his wand and took a checkered towel from the kitchen drawer, the one that always squeaked when it was opened. Today the squeak sounded like the mew of a kitten. He wiped up his spilled tea slowly, automatically. He heard his mother put the messages on the table next to him. "These are all for you," she said quietly.

Remus stared at the scrolls of parchment. There were four of them. He recognized the writing of his three friends, but the writing on the fourth letter was not familiar. _It must be Lily's writing_, he thought, and his heart thudded. He hadn't thought to send her an owl after his parents came for him, but surely she would understand. He opened his friends' letters first.

_Moony,_

_Dumbledore told us what happened. He said we are not to leave the school under any circumstances, so of course we will try to get out tonight and come see you. I'm really sorry to hear about your grandparents. Let us know what we can do to help._

_Sirius_

Remus smiled a little. He knew if anyone would break curfew, go to Hogsmeade, and Apparate from there, it would be Sirius. He opened the next letter.

_Dear Remus,_

_I cannot believe what's happened! I hope you're all right! We're going to try to sneak out tonight, but if we can't then we will write to you every day. Hopefully you will be back soon. My condolences to your parents._

_Sincerely,_

_Peter_

Actually, Remus half-hoped that his friends would not visit him. He didn't think he would have anything to say to them, and there was no sense in their getting into trouble. Besides, strangely enough, he was getting used to the stillness and the solitude. He opened the third letter.

_Moony,_

_I'm so sorry about what happened. I know you were close to your grandparents. I'm sure they put up a good fight. We will put up more than a good fight when we finish school, all of us. We're in this together. This will not stand._

_Between Lily and me we've got your classes covered, so don't worry if you're not back by Monday. We'll get your assignments._

_Courage,_

_Prongs_

_We_, thought Remus. He pushed the thought away impatiently, although he was impressed that he had the emotional energy right now for petty, boyish jealousies. But then that strange fear started to knock at his heart again, the fear he had felt when he dreamed of James and Lily dancing together, frozen and waiting for the tune that never came. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and the fear abated somewhat. He opened the last letter.

_My dear Remus,_

_Words cannot express my sadness. I'm sure your grandparents must have been lovely people if they are related to you. I keep thinking of the poem you quoted for me, and I wish I could have met your grandmother._

_Sirius and Peter want us all to come see you tonight, but I wonder if you'd rather be alone with your family. James thinks perhaps you need some space right now. Even so, we'll come see you if we can, and you can send us away if that would be best. But if we can't make it out, just know that we are thinking of you, and we'll be here when you get back._

_I'm so sorry, Remus._

_Love,_

_Lily_

_Love_, thought Remus. He read Lily's letter twice more and then sat down at the table and gazed at the four letters while unwelcome fear clutched at his chest; he was beginning to decide he preferred numbness instead. He lifted his teacup to his lips before he remembered that he had spilled all the tea out of it moments ago, so he wiped his lips with the towel he had used to clean up the spill. The towel smelled of his mother's laundry and his grandfather's spices, so he quickly put it down again and put his hands in his lap, trying to will them to stop shaking.

Now the soup was cooking. With nothing more to do for the moment, Rowena sat across from Remus. Her reddened eyes were too much for Remus to bear, so he continued to stare at his letters.

"New friend?" his mother asked, indicating the letter from Lily lying on top of the stack.

Remus's brow twitched and he felt himself blushing. "Yeah," he mumbled. He cleared his throat and folded the letters, thrusting them into his back pocket. "Yeah."

"That's good." Rowena said nothing more, for which Remus was grateful. She buried her head in her hands, her dark hair falling over her eyes. Remus saw a tear fall from underneath the curtain of hair and splatter onto the thick oak table. "Why?" Rowena muttered for probably the fiftieth time today.

"I don't know," Remus responded again. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere outside himself.

"This is killing me," Rowena said, so softly that Remus barely heard it. He felt a dull anger toward his father for not allowing his wife to be by his side today, of all days.

All of a sudden his mother burst out of her chair and ran to the back door, flinging it open and calling her husband's name. Remus no longer wondered how his mother could hear Apparation and footsteps that no one else could; she had had this ability for as long as he could remember. Perhaps it was something one developed when one became a parent, or when one had lost someone dear. Rowena sobbed as Owen fell into her outstretched arms. Remus sat in silence, feeling like a spectator as his father cried and muttered into her hair. He wondered if he should go to his room. It felt strange being here at all, like he had left some key part of himself somewhere else. He stood up, went to the teakettle on the stove, and began making more tea. Surely someone would want some.

Eventually Owen gathered himself enough to come inside. A chill had seeped into the kitchen while the couple stood in the doorway, so Remus added another log to the fireplace. He stood leaning with one elbow on the wooden mantle over the hearth and watched his father pour himself a large glass of firewhiskey, an automatic motion Remus had seen time and time again since he was a child. Remus turned his gaze away. If there ever was an occasion for drinking, this was it.

His parents sat at the kitchen table. Remus turned the heat down on the bubbling soup and poured two cups of tea. He placed one in front of his mother and sat beside her, sipping from his own cup. His father was staring into his glass of firewhiskey; the half-empty bottle sat within arm's reach.

Owen took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. "Well, it seems that the Death Eaters were looking for maps."

There was a moment of silence while Remus and his mother considered this news.

"How do you know?" Rowena asked gently.

"The invisible safe in the library was cracked open, and all the spells were broken. The maps were the only things missing from it. They wanted us to know what they were after."

Owen folded an arm across his chest and tucked the hand into his armpit, rubbing his upper lip with the other knuckle, just as Jonathan Lupin always did. _Used to do_, Remus reminded himself.

Remus spoke quickly, to distract himself from his emotion. "How important were these maps?"

"Well, fortunately, they were ones he had made as a young man, when he was first learning the trade. They charted mountain ranges and spans of wilderness, mostly in other countries, but a few here. He kept them for – for sentimental reasons." Owen coughed once and paused, his throat working. When he continued, his voice quivered for a moment. "There – there weren't any highly populated cities or towns on those maps. Some of Dad's better ones were bought by individuals, so those are long gone. Who knows where they are now. His best maps, thank Merlin, are still in Gringotts, under lock and key."

Remus couldn't help thinking that Voldemort would find the people who had bought his granddad's maps, no matter who or where they were. And even if these stolen maps seemed useless, Remus was certain that Voldemort would find some benefit in them. Perhaps giants dwelled in the mountain ranges; perhaps werewolves roamed the forests. There was no telling what usefulness the Dark Lord could glean from those maps, what people or creatures he could put under his command. Remus worried for the safety of anyone living in those mountain ranges, people he would probably never meet.

Rowena held Owen's hands across the table and another hush stole into the room. Remus stood up and brought the teakettle to refill his and his mother's cups.

"It's good to be home," Owen breathed, his wet eyes sweeping gratefully over his wife and his son. Remus managed a small smile. Suddenly, looking into his father's eyes, a flash of Legilimency showed him the Dark Mark over his grandparents' house, the slashed and crumpled bodies lying on the kitchen floor … and he saw something else.

The kettle dropped heavily onto the table.

He saw a younger Owen hovering outside the little classroom where he taught Muggle and wizarding science to young witches and wizards before they went off at age eleven to Hogwarts. Someone was threatening him, and this strange young man towered over his father. The man wore dark robes and his hands, with their dirty, yellowed fingernails, pointed and gestured. Remus could almost smell him, a dangerous, feral scent; but he couldn't see the man's face beneath its hood. The dark figure wanted Owen to teach him about crossbreeding, something Owen had studied under Rowena's parents for several years, something that wasn't entirely legal anymore. Owen protested that he only dealt with plants and Kneazles, nothing more. The hoarse voice insisted that Owen was more talented than he realized, that there was a higher calling in crossbreeding. _Werewolves_, Greyback rasped.

Remus felt his hand reach for the back of a chair to steady himself.

He saw Owen and Rowena racing to his own unconscious, bloody body beside the lake, firing spells after the fleeing werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. His mother's throaty screams pierced the still night air.

He saw his parents and himself huddled together at the funeral of Rowena's parents, the famous crossbreeders, who were killed less than a year after Remus was attacked. No one spoke about their deaths, not then, not now.

A cold sweat burst forth on Remus's forehead and his mouth went dry.

He felt the guilt his father silently carried inside him all these years – the anguish over the infection of his only son, the rage at the murders of his wife's parents, the fear he carried every waking moment, all brought on by his refusal of Greyback's monstrous request. It was his father's own despicable burden, soothed only by firewhiskey and his wife's gentle voice.

Remus saw the world go red and he fainted.

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When he awoke he was in his room, lying on top of the covers with a heavy quilt thrown over him. He remembered with a dull alarm that he had passed out in the kitchen; his parents must have Levitated him upstairs to his bed. He heard them now, shuffling about in the kitchen and speaking in hushed tones. There was the distant clatter and clink of dishes: his mother was probably bringing him food, the cure for everything.

The horrors of the day splashed over Remus like an icy wave. Owen's refusal to help Greyback had caused the werewolf to attack his only child. And Remus's mother's parents were murdered because of that same choice; perhaps Greyback had approached them with his abominable demand and they, too, had refused. Now Death Eaters had targeted his other set of grandparents and they were gone. There was practically no one left. Remus shuddered violently and pulled the quilt up to his chin. He didn't want to move, or to think. And yet his brain kept forcing images into his memory – Greyback's yellowed fingernails gesturing at his father, his grandparents' bodies lying like rag dolls on their sunny kitchen floor early this morning …

He stared at the ceiling, where a few Muggle toy planes from his childhood still hung from wires from the little nails his father had hammered into the plaster. Now, years later, tiny, hairline cracks spread from each nail toward the walls like a spider's web. Suddenly Remus wanted to rip all the airplanes down and toss them out the window; but he found he hadn't the energy, so he rolled over and stared at the cracked wall instead, trying to imagine what it would be like to disappear into it.

Footsteps climbed the narrow, carpeted stairs, passed the bathroom, and approached his small bedroom at the end of the hall; he heard his parents' voices more clearly now.

"He hasn't really eaten all day," Rowena murmured.

"Yes," Owen agreed hesitantly. "Yes, that's probably all it was."

Remus heard his parents enter his room and place a tray on the bedside table. He smelled his mother's soup and dutifully sat up. There was a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk next to the bowl of soup, the same foods Rowena used to make for him after a transformation. She had always insisted that good food would help him recover more easily.

Rowena settled on the bed facing Remus, and Owen pulled the rickety wooden chair from the corner and sat in it. To avoid their looks of concern, Remus immediately picked up the sandwich and began eating.

"Thanks, Mum," he mumbled with his mouth full.

"Feeling better?" His mother pushed Remus's hair out of his eyes, a familiar gesture that, oddly, did make him feel somewhat better.

"Yes," he assured her.

"You haven't fainted since you were a boy," Owen reminded him.

"Yeah, well." Remus chewed for a moment. "A lot has happened today." He glanced briefly at his father and offered a smile. "I'm okay. Really. Don't worry about me, Dad."

Remus felt his father's eyes piercing him, but he couldn't look at him again tonight. He had already seen more than enough, and he didn't trust his ability to keep the visions away just now.

"Someone from the Ministry is coming here by Floo in a bit with some more paperwork," Owen remarked with a sigh. "I should probably go downstairs to receive them."

"Go," Remus said gently, waving his hand at the door. "I'm fine, Dad. Promise."

Remus picked up the bowl of steaming soup and heard his father's chair scrape the floor as he stood and exited the room. Remus inhaled the comforting smell of tomatoes, garlic, onions, and all the other vegetables his mother had thrown into the pot. He sat up with his legs crossed and ate ravenously while his mother watched him.

"Go on, Mum," he muttered between bites. "Go wait with Dad. I'm all right now. I'll come down in a few minutes."

"Something's on your mind."

Remus stopped chewing. Of course she was right; she could always tell. But what good would come of confessing what he had seen? It would likely only cause his parents more grief if they knew that Remus had learned how Greyback had come to choose him. They blamed themselves for the attack, and they hadn't told Remus out of guilt. They had only told Remus _who_ attacked him, but never _why_. But they couldn't have behaved any differently, Remus realized; they _had_ to refuse Greyback's proposal. How many more people would be infected by now if Greyback were able to use some sort of mass crossbreeding in addition to individual werewolf attacks? And even if the crossbreeding experiments were unsuccessful, at best his father would have been under the mad werewolf's thumb even today; at worst, they would all be dead. His father _had_ to refuse. And yet, his decision had brought a lifelong affliction to Remus and doom to both Rowena's parents. He wished there were a way he could relieve their guilt. There was nothing to forgive; he would make the same choice his parents had made if Greyback approached him now.

But he couldn't tell his mother that he knew.

"Nothing. It's just …" What could he say? "I can't believe they're gone." This, at least, was true; and he felt a stab in his heart as he said it. Remus steeled himself and looked into his mother's eyes. He often felt exposed when he looked directly into her face, as if she were seeing a werewolf instead of her own son, and he usually looked away quickly, as he did now. "Love you, Mum," he said, as offhandedly as he could.

"Love you, sweetheart," she replied, her eyes glistening. Unable to help herself, she pushed the hair away from his brow once more and stood to leave. "Come down when you're ready."

Remus watched her narrow back as she disappeared from the doorway. He looked down at his soup again, then delicately placed it back on the tray on the bedside table. He curled onto his side, pulled the quilt over his head, and buried his face in the pillow for several minutes until it was wet with tears.

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_**A/N: I've always wondered what on earth Remus's father could have done to "offend" Greyback, so here is my fanciful take on the matter! Thanks to everyone who has left such thoughtful reviews. This week's bribe to reviewers: There's a werewolf who needs to be coddled and comforted. Any takers?**_


	32. Shelter

Remus stared at his own freshly-scrubbed cheeks in the mirror over the bathroom sink, wondering why he didn't look as old as he felt. Suddenly, as if in response to his musing, there was a distinct "pop" on the front lawn. He dried his face and padded silently downstairs. He walked straight to the front door, opened it, and –

"Lily."

Lily stopped mid-stride on the stone pathway that led to the front steps. The light from the front hall illuminated her face; it was drawn and regarded him with concern. They gazed at each other in silence for a moment as crickets chirped solemnly in the woods behind the house. Remus noticed that she had brought an overnight bag with her.

He quietly shut the door behind him.

"I thought Dumbledore said no one was to leave …?"

"I asked him nicely," Lily said with a half-smile.

Upstairs, Remus had thought he had wrung out more grief than was possible, but he felt his chest tightening with emotion once more. He said nothing, because if he spoke he might sob, and once he started crying he might not stop. So he stood there at the bottom of the steps and thrust his hands into his pockets, watching the scuffed toes of his shoes.

"Thanks for coming," he muttered in the direction of his feet.

He saw the toes of Lily's shoes approach his. Sudden fear washed over him and he felt an overpowering need to run, to grab Lily's hand and run away with her and never stop, to get away from this place, from anywhere, from everywhere. There was no place that was safe anymore. No one was safe; it was utter stupidity to feel safe. His breath hitched and he tried to look away.

Lily's hand went to his cheek, touching his scars, and she entered his field of vision with her face upturned and unguarded, searching his eyes. Remus saw a brief vision of an owl landing on a windowsill in the Common Room, and he dispatched the image by looking at Lily's lips instead. At once her arms encircled him, and his throat tightened. He stood there stiffly, not wanting to feel, but wanting to feel her. He struggled for a moment until his arms decided the matter for him, snaking around her waist. She was so tiny compared with him, and yet he felt that she was keeping him from slipping away to somewhere nasty and incomprehensible. His face found the crook of her neck and hiccups of anguish shuddered his body against hers. She held him fast, quelling the shaking with the force of her embrace. Unexpected relief washed over him. He hadn't realized how badly he had wanted the contact of another human body, how desperately he needed reassurance that he wasn't alone. They stood that way for some time, and eventually his body stilled and his eyes began to flutter open once more. His lungs breathed in the scent of her hungrily. His lips found her neck and placed a soft, meditative kiss that lingered there, unmoving, for a full minute.

There was another "pop," and both their heads turned toward the street. There stood Peter with a small suitcase clutched to his breast, turning this way and that until he was oriented to where he had landed. Lily and Remus slowly stepped away from each other, and Remus wiped his eyes with the palms of both hands. With a furrowed brow, Peter approached Remus; he stopped a few paces away, shaking his head. No one spoke for several seconds.

"I'm so sorry, mate," he murmured at last.

Remus nodded. "Thanks," he managed, his voice catching on the word.

The three stood there and soberly watched the ground for a moment. Finally Remus turned toward the house and Lily and Peter followed him silently up the steps.

* * *

Around the kitchen table Remus told them what had happened to his grandparents, leaving out what he had discovered about why Fenrir had attacked him. Peter looked pale; and Lily's jaw was set, her lips pressed together in a straight line. Her hands shook as she lifted her teacup to her lips. Soon Remus's parents entered the kitchen and the three friends stood up.

"Peter!" Rowena exclaimed, crossing around the table to clasp his hands. "What a surprise!"

"Hello, Mrs. Lupin, Mr. Lupin." Peter nodded toward Owen standing in the doorway. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, dear. It's good of you to come," Rowena said quietly, her eyes shimmering. She turned toward Lily. "And you must be …?"

"Lily Evans," she said, shaking Rowena's hand and glancing at Owen. "I was so sorry to hear about what's happened."

"Thank you, Lily. It's a pleasure to meet you." Rowena looked at her husband and briefly raised her eyebrows at him. "I wish it could have been under other circumstances."

Owen brought a fist to his lips and cleared his throat once, softly. He finally shuffled into the room and shook Lily's hand. "A pleasure," he muttered, managing a polite smile.

"I've just made dinner – " Rowena began.

"Oh, thank you, but we already ate, " said Lily, darting her eyes meaningfully at Peter.

Remus quickly interrupted. "Mum, Dad, why don't I take my friends to Barney McPhee's for a while? The Ministry's coming by any minute now and you'll be busy. It'll be better without us underfoot."

"Yes, that would probably be best," Owen agreed.

"Are you sure?" Rowena argued.

"They'll be fine."

"Owen, it might not be safe," his wife said quietly.

"It's a Muggle pub in a nowhere village, Mum," Remus pointed out. "Nothing's going to happen there that wouldn't happen here first."

Rowena stared hard at Remus. He blanched and quickly looked down at the table.

"I – I only meant –" he began.

"He's right, Rowena," said Owen in a weary voice. "Let them go. You'll spend the night here, of course?"

Rowena spoke briskly before Peter and Lily could reply. "Remus, show Lily the spare room. We'll conjure an extra bed for Peter in your room."

* * *

Peter brought three mixed drinks from the bar, one in each hand and the third tucked between his arm and chest. He skirted around the juke box and slid into the booth next to Lily.

"I didn't know what to order," he explained. "You know, Muggle pubs have so many different drinks. So the barman picked these out for us. Based on our faces, he said. Bloody wanker."

He handed a vodka martini to Remus, a Cosmopolitan to Lily, and kept the white Russian for himself.

"So are James and Sirius coming?" Remus asked, raising the martini glass to his lips.

"Er …" Peter screwed up his face and shifted in his seat. "James is a bit tied up."

Remus stopped stock still in the middle of his first sip. He swallowed hard.

Lily's harsh voice cut across the smoky din. "What do you _mean_, he's a bit tied up?"

"Well, I mean literally," Peter replied apologetically. "The Slytherins didn't take too kindly to losing at Quidditch yesterday. So dinner this evening was – well, long story short, someone zapped him boneless and then zapped him into a pretzel."

Remus set his drink down and stared at it. "Oh," he said flatly.

"What happened?" Lily asked with a furrowed brow. "I ate in the Common Room tonight. I missed it."

"Sirius jumped into the fray, of course. Well, by that point everyone was throwing spells, right there in the Great Hall; it all happened really suddenly. It was pandemonium. Slytherins were hexing Gryffindors left and right, and the Gryffindors were getting downright violent. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were in the thick of it. It was weird. I've never seen anything like it."

"Sirius, " Remus prompted.

"Oh, yeah. He faced off with Angus Adderton and got his … well, I don't know if I should say this in mixed company."

Lily glared at Peter, and he cleared his throat.

"Let's just say that unless Madam Pomfrey fixes things, he won't be using the toilet for a while."

Remus let out a long sigh between his teeth and twirled his martini glass around and around on the dark table between his fingers. Lily watched his face.

"This is no good," she said simply, turning back to face Peter. "They should be here."

"I know, I know," he inflected.

"What the hell were they thinking?"

"Let's not talk about it," Remus said brusquely. "They're in the infirmary and that's that."

Guitar chords rang out as a new song began on the juke box, and soon the nasal tones of Bob Dylan's voice wafted through the air with the cigarette smoke, cutting through the noise of conversation and laughter. The three friends remained quiet as they watched their fingers clutching their drinks, and Remus was grateful for their silence. He had heard the song before, but he found the lyrics strangely moving now:

_'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood_

_When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud_

_I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form._

_"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

He raised his eyes to find Lily watching him.

"I got an Owl today," she said at last, her tone flat.

Peter shifted in the booth to face her.

"Mum and Dad told me – told me – " Her voice caught and she couldn't speak, although her face remained impasssive.

"Is everyone all right?" Remus asked at once.

"Yes, yes, my family's fine," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It was Petunia's piano recital – oh, she's my sister," Lily explained quickly to Peter before facing Remus again. "You remember the concert she asked me not to come to?"

Remus nodded.

"It was last weekend, and I didn't go, just like she wanted. But – " Her voice caught again and she stared at the table again until she was able to go on. "Mum and Dad kept this from me; they didn't want to worry me because they weren't hurt – "

"What happened?" asked Peter.

"Well, Petunia gets very nervous before she performs, and this time she was especially nervous – I think because this new bloke Vernon was in the audience – and she asked Dad to stay backstage with her until she went on. So it was nearly her time to go, and then – and then – "

Remus reached across the table and grasped her hand firmly. Lily took a deep, steadying breath and continued.

"Death Eaters entered the theatre from the lobby and locked all the doors. And they took – they – they took the audience." Lily was pale and her chin quivered as she tried to keep from crying. "They took them all."

"Bloody hell," said Peter in a hoarse voice.

Remus squeezed her hand tighter. "How many?"

"About seventy-five, maybe a hundred."

The boys were silent. Dylan's voice drifted into Remus's consciousness again:

_Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount_

_But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts_

_And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn._

_"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

Lily cleared her throat and went on. "Mum knew immediately what was happening, of course, because I'd warned them to run if they ever saw anyone in dark robes and hoods – " Lily had to collect herself again. She took several sips of her pink drink and set it down again delicately. Her thumb rubbed across the top of Remus's knuckles automatically, over and over. "She grabbed Vernon and ran behind the curtain immediately to get Petunia and Dad. And they escaped, along with the other kids who were waiting to perform backstage. The Death Eaters hadn't thought about the back doors. Or maybe they just didn't care if a few got away."

"To tell the tale," remarked Remus. Peter, looking pale, nodded.

_I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove_

_And old men with broken teeth stranded without love._

_Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?_

_"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

"The families?" Peter asked.

Lily was silent for a long moment as her throat worked. "No one's seen any of the people in the audience since that night."

"How many survivors?" asked Remus.

"There were nine kids waiting to perform." Her face was blank as she spoke, though her voice cracked. "Petunia's best friend lost her parents and her brother that night. She's living with her grandparents now in Manchester. They all think it was terrorists or something."

Finally Lily's eyes welled up with tears and she spoke in a rush, quietly and desperately. "What's happening? There's nowhere safe. Why did they go _there_, of all places?" Her eyes darted around the pub as if she were a cornered animal, and her breathing became shallow. "I feel like time is running out. There's not enough time for – for – all the things we haven't done. Things we'll never do. It's too big, we can't fight this – not when there are Death Eaters in every town. If only I'd been there, I could have – "

"Lily, you're an amazing witch, but you couldn't have taken them on alone," Remus said with a calmness that surprised even him. "Your family is safe. That's enough for now."

"But they might not have been," she said tersely. "They might not have been. And you know it." She stared at Remus in anguish, and he, with a dully thudding heart, couldn't disagree.

Peter's face was pale and drawn, and his eyes blinked rapidly. "There's no way to know who's next. Or how to protect ourselves. They're too powerful. Being pureblood is no protection, either, unless you join them."

All three were silent. Remus gently let go of Lily's hand and sipped his drink thoughtfully.

"But we have to fight," he said evenly.

Lily looked up, searching his eyes. Peter kept staring at the table miserably.

"It's our duty to fight. To have hope. We must." Remus finished his drink and set it down on the table with a thunk. "If we don't take this on, who will?"

Peter frowned and bit his lip, his eyes focused far away. Lily nodded as a teardrop slowly rolled down her cheek and splattered silently onto her finger, glistening there like a ring.

* * *

Perhaps it was because Peter was in an unfamiliar bed, or the pillow wasn't the right firmness, but his snoring was remarkably loud tonight. Remus stared at the airplanes on his ceiling and wished he could fly away in one of them, if only to get away from the incessant buzzing of the lump in the bed that had been conjured next to his. But he doubted he would have gotten any sleep anyhow. His grandparents were in practically every thought that whizzed through his brain as he lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come.

He thought about all the times he, as a young boy, tried to teach his grandmother how to do magic. She was a Muggle, and he knew it; but he was convinced that if he tried hard enough, showed her well enough, she would learn how to levitate objects and make stuffed animals breathe fire, just like he could do. And Margaret humored him, trying each and every one of his spells, using her husband's wand while Jonathan Lupin sat, feet up, in his easy chair pretending not to watch from behind a newspaper. Remus understood now, of course, the futility of his efforts. But he couldn't help wondering: if she _had_ been a witch, could she and his grandfather have fought off the Death Eaters together? His eyes became wet again as he thought of all the things his grandmother hadn't done yet: the books and stories and poetry forever unwritten, the talks and readings at universities never to be seen. And he thought of all the places she and Granddad hadn't visited yet, and the maps that would never be made because there was no Jonathan Lupin to make them.

Remus quietly lifted the quilt and stole across the room. He opened the door silently, pushing downward on the handle as he turned it so that it wouldn't stick to the doorjamb and make a loud crack as it opened. He shut the door and thought about going to the kitchen to make a sandwich, but he wasn't really hungry. He stood in the hallway and stared at the floor runner, following the beam of moonlight as it reached, armlike, from the window at the end of the hall across the dark floral pattern of the rug almost to the opposite wall. He paced. He stretched. He rubbed his hands over his face and rumpled his hair. Finally he sat down with his back against the wall, knees hugged to his chest. He was directly facing the room in which Lily was sleeping.

This was the room that had been his nursery as a baby. It was the room that should have been a nursery again. His mother wanted more children, that was clear. His crib was still inside that room. She hadn't the heart to get rid of it, and Owen hadn't pressed her. But there had been no more children. Remus only realized now what that meant, the only thing it could mean.

As he gazed at it, the door slowly opened. Lily, standing silently in a pale nightgown with rumpled hair of her own, regarded Remus without surprise. She took two steps forward and extended her hand. He looked up at her face, gray in the half-darkness, and the song from the pub entered his mind once more:

_Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there_

_With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair._

_She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns._

_"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

Heart pounding, he took her hand, stood up, and allowed her to lead him into her room.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting this update. There was some sort of disagreement between my Mac and the fanfic website which I've only just figured out. (I've not solved it, but merely caved in and used a different computer to post!) Thanks for your patience.**_

**_Anyone who reviews gets to enjoy this cruel cliffhanger with the Remus of your choice in any way you prefer! Bob Dylan soundtrack optional. ;)_**


	33. Power

The moonlight shining through the trees splashed a weblike design on one wall adjacent to the window, while the rest of the room remained in shadow. There was the crib in the corner, sadly jolly-looking in its pastel colors. There was no bedding in it now, of course; but its nakedness sent an unexpected lurch into Remus's heart. The bed in which Lily had been sleeping was in disarray, and for some reason he felt comforted by the sight of it.

Remus and Lily faced each other, unmoving, only a hand's breadth apart. A current of desperation and longing seemed to fill the very air between them, but neither one budged. Remus's thoughts were a whirl, and he somehow came to the realization that he was brimming with anticipation and fear at once. And there was an unfamiliar sense of power there, too – not power over Lily, or even over what might transpire between them tonight, but over something larger that he couldn't put a name to. He felt giddy with the sensation, even as his stomach churned with the fear that had decided to live there since he awoke from his dream – was it only this morning? Once more he had the strange feeling of balancing on a precipice, and if he shifted his weight one way or the other …

Lily stepped into him. It was mere centimeters, but it was enough. His hands were drawn to her face and he kissed her gently, slowly, repeatedly. She responded in kind, her fingers tracing patterns up and down his neck and on his scalp, catching handfuls of his hair and sending shivers into him wherever she touched. And then somehow, at once, everything shifted, intensified. Of one accord, their breath quickened and their kisses deepened, arms clutching each other with a new sort of urgency. Lily's hands pulled Remus's body toward her as she backed toward the wall, tugging at his pajamas and T-shirt when she couldn't find purchase any other way. His hands roamed and searched her curves, lifting a leg and wrapping it around his waist as he held her against the wall and pressed into her.

The moonlight glinted in her eyes, and Remus knew that he wasn't the only one afraid. He sensed her fear, as well: fear mixed with a desperate need, a need for a solution, or an alternative, he couldn't tell which. He closed his eyes and let his lips devour her delicately curved collarbone; the shallow, shadowy valley between the small breasts hidden by her nightgown; her neck, impossibly white under the eye of the moon.

Lily guided his face back up and kissed him with fervor, crushing her body to his. Her eyes remained open and Remus caught another glimpse of feeling there. The message was savage and fearful, desperate and certain; if there were words to her feelings they would have said, simply, _I want to live_. His heart thundered. He again felt a surge of power, now rushing through his veins into every extremity; blood pounded in his brain, in his body, thrashed all thought from his consciousness, and with every throb he knew that he could. He _could_ save her, from whatever it was she was trying to escape. He could do it. And she could hold him here, ground him, keep him from plummeting over the precipice.

He pushed up Lily's nightgown and grasped her thighs, pressing her snugly against the wall, feeling the soft fabric of her knickers and the pleasantly pliant flesh underneath, letting his fingers slide a little under the white cotton to feel the creamy skin of her hips, then dancing across the back of one thigh and knee. Their urgent breathing, muffled only slightly by their kisses, filled the quiet room.

Lily reached between them and began clumsily hiking up Remus's T-shirt, and he pulled away from her long enough to help her slide it over his head and toss it to the floor. Now she pushed him roughly against the wall and covered his chest with kisses, sliding her tongue across his nipples, his scars, catching a lower rib between her teeth and nibbling at it with her warm mouth. One small hand reached lower and grasped him firmly through his pajamas, and Remus bit his lip to keep from moaning. The fingers of one of his hands became entangled in her hair while the other hand stroked her cheek, touched her mouth where it met his skin, ventured downward inside the back of her nightgown to feel her smooth, warm back.

Suddenly Lily was pulling at his pajamas and his boxer shorts and then they, too, were in a pile at his feet. Her mouth enveloped Remus at once and he thought he would pass out with delirium. He felt her warm tongue and lips move gently over him and around him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he wanted it to last forever. She adjusted her movements in response to his soft moans and slight twitches of his body, and soon her gentle ministrations became more certain and insistent. His breath quickened as he felt his desire mounting to a fever pitch that would surely be unsustainable for very long; but he didn't want it to be over so soon. He gently pulled away from her and drew her up into his arms, kissing her ravenously as he began gathering the fabric of her nightgown into his fingers, slowly at first to see if she protested, then more boldly. She raised her arms and gazed into his eyes as he lifted the nightgown over her head and dropped it into the pile of clothing.

Her body stood partly in shadow, partly in moonlight, and he felt time suspend itself as he hungrily took in her form, feeling as if he were the first man in all of history to see a woman like this. As he stood there, she hooked her thumbs over her knickers and stepped out of them. He felt the breath leave his body and his knees go weak, although somehow he managed to remain upright. He returned his gaze to Lily's face and he began to breathe again. She took his hand and placed it around her waist, pulling him toward her. The look in her eyes was fierce and determined. Gone was the fear; it was replaced with an almost impatient yearning. And again, just as he had on the night in the Common Room on the sofa, he saw a flash of himself and Lily, bodies entwined, her legs around him as he lost himself in her; and finally, tonight, he knew what she wanted.

Remus's lips found hers again and he pressed his body against her, delighting in her gasp and quickened breathing when she felt his need against her bare flesh. Lily's arms clutched him tightly as her hips moved into him. Slowly, he walked her toward the bed, his tongue never losing contact with hers. He sat her gently on the edge and began kissing his way down her body, lingering over her breasts, taking great satisfaction in watching them respond to his little attentions. Reverently, on his knees, he kissed her flat stomach, her tiny navel, ran his hands over every inch of her narrow torso, gingerly stroked her thighs and calves, squeezed her ankles. Every bit of her thrilled him, and he wanted his hands over all of her at once. Without thinking, he bit her hipbone gently and was rewarded with a hissed intake of breath and a convulsive shudder of pleasure. His lips wandered tentatively further south, pausing in case there was a protest; and when there was none he buried his face in the most amazing scents and sensations imaginable. He tried to remember what he had read about pleasuring a woman and found that, as his brain no longer seemed to be working, no information was forthcoming; so instead he did what Lily had done: he listened and felt for her responses, and adjusted accordingly. Her hips tilted into him and helped guide him, and her quiet exclamations let him know when he'd done something right.

He could have continued like this all night; but Lily wanted something more, just as he had earlier. She placed a warm hand on his cheek, and he looked up at her. Her expression was raw, unguarded, vulnerable and ferocious.

And her hand held her wand over her belly.

His eyes darted from the wand to Lily's face again. He knew what this meant, and what the incantation was for a contraception spell. His heart was near to bursting, and his body felt larger than itself. Lily's urgent breathing was the only sound he heard, her glittering eyes the only things he could see in the darkness. For one wild second he considered asking her not to perform the spell, then burying himself in her as nature intended. He imagined the two of them disappearing from the world somehow and raising a little family together. He didn't know where this thought came from, or why on earth he would think something like that when he hadn't even finished school; but there was a lot of power behind the thought, and it thrilled him. Part of him thought that this far-fetched plan could be the very thing that would protect Lily from her fears. Part of him felt it would be disaster of an unimaginable order.

She waited.

She probably didn't know why he was hesitating, and he didn't want her to think he didn't want this, that every cell in his body wasn't screaming for him to take her. He kissed her stomach just above the pubic bone and, still kneeling before her, placed his left hand over Lily's wand hand and the right on her belly; he watched as she placed her left hand on top of his right. They gazed at each other, eyes shimmering in the dark, mouths poised for the words they had been taught by Madam Pomfrey four years ago, tongues ready to utter the spell, if they were indeed to go through with it.

Lily inhaled, and Remus knew that this was happening.

They spoke the incantation together in a whisper; and when they finished, warmth emanated from Lily's abdomen for a moment, then subsided. They remained perfectly still, their eyes taking in the expression on each other's face, their bodies still breathing heavily. Slowly, as if she were underwater, her eyes never leaving Remus's, Lily placed her wand on the bedside table with one shaking hand, the other still clasping his on her belly. Tentatively, she slid back on the bed and lowered herself slightly, watching him shyly from her position propped up on her elbows.

Remus crept carefully onto the bed. He was aware of many things: his heavy hands, fingers disappearing into the disheveled sheets, a knee sinking into the mattress, his toes curling underneath his feet, an elbow shaking as he lowered himself, his torso hovering over Lily's, his eyes searching hers and meeting her thoughts as they formed in some deep part of her brain.

When he kissed her, it felt as if they were kissing for the first time again. And when he entered her, he felt, as all new lovers must, that together they had the power to change the course of history.

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**_A/N: Sorry for the delay with this one; you can well imagine why I hesitated. So, it finally comes to this. Has Remus made a huge mistake? Has Lily? Will his friends find out? So many quesions to be answered ..._**

**_All reviewers get to ponder the question of fate with Remus, as it's been on his mind lately._**


	34. Courage

Remus must have fallen asleep at some point in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn. The house was silent, and he opened his eyes to the dim, gray light of early morning. He turned his head to find Lily lying on her side with her head propped up on one hand: she, apparently, had been watching him sleep, and the thought of her doing so was somehow comforting. He met her drowsy gaze as he pondered what on earth they had done last night, and how many times they had done it, and when they would be able to do it again. He tucked an arm behind his head and took in her sleepy face, her disheveled hair, her simple beauty. She looked new to him, as if he had discovered something in her unknown to the waking world, something, in fact, known only to him, something he could never begin to adequately describe. Lily's lopsided smile was exactly like the one she wore the first night she kissed him in the Hog's Head and on the road back to school after his drunken birthday party. He smiled back, hardly daring to believe that she had chosen him, that he was lying here in bed with her, that she was touching his chest with such possessiveness and care. _Why?_ he thought. _Why?_

Now the backs of her fingers trailed across the scars on his face, and she leaned in close to kiss him. As she did so, Remus, without thinking about why he was doing it, searched Lily's memory for an animal, and he found it: a wolf with brown fur. It was crouched to pounce, and it was snarling nastily, bloody saliva dripping from its powerful jaws. A beast with blood on its forelimbs, where it had bitten itself. There was nothing human about this thing. Nothing at all.

Remus' heart plummeted into his gut like a cannon ball. Lily's lips met his as his eyes met the wolf's; it was all he could do not to cringe and pull away from her.

"Hi," Lily said sleepily into his lips.

"Hi," Remus responded automatically, trying desperately to process the image that he had stupidly gone to find and then stupidly allowed to claw into his brain, the image that he would never, ever be able to forget. Why had he looked for that in Lily's thoughts? Was he an idiot? It was almost too much to comprehend, but it was him. That was what he looked like as a werewolf. That hideous, snapping beast. His heart staggered and he felt ill, all the blood draining from his head to his extremities; but he struggled to keep his face neutral.

"Are you all right?" Lily's voice held a note of hesitation.

"Yeah," he muttered hoarsely. "Yeah." To keep the horrible vision away he focused on the curve of her lips. He wanted to stay but he needed to get out of the room, and quickly. He sat up and kissed her again softly, trying to make his voice sound normal. "I should leave before my parents wake up."

"Right." She gave his arm one last caress before she reached for her nightgown, still watching him worriedly.

Remus quickly dressed and hurried across the hall to the bathroom where he knelt, shaking, holding onto the toilet. He dry heaved twice, but nothing came up. He knew, of course, that Lily had seen him like that, transformed; but now, seeing himself as she had, the reality of it hit home. She had _seen_ him, been horrified by that thing, by him – and still she let him touch her. He rested his forehead on the cold porcelain and rocked his head from side to side, staring at the small black and white tiles of the floor. Was she crazy? Was he? How could he have forgotten for one moment what he was? He sat perfectly still for a very long time, his eyes unfocused. Eventually his leg cramped and he leaned back against the wall and sat that way for another long stretch of heartbeats.

A small knock on the door jarred him out of his daze. Automatically, he stood to open it, thinking it was Peter needing to use the toilet. Had he noticed that Remus was gone last night? His brain sped to find a lie that he could tell him.

Remus opened the door to find Lily standing there, her lips pursed. "I'm coming in," she said in a low voice.

He stood aside to let her pass, and she shut the door and cast a silencing charm on the room. "We need to talk about this before we go." He knew she meant before they went to the funeral. "You're feeling guilty."

He stared at her. Then he stared at the floor, furrowing his brow. Was he feeling guilty? If James was his best friend, he should feel guilty. But strangely the answer, he realized, was no. He should feel guilty, but he didn't. The guilt, he knew, would come later. "It's not that," he said.

"Because there's no need for – what?" Lily stopped mid-gesture and did a double take.

"I, erm, no. No, I'm not feeling guilty. Oddly enough."

"Well, that's – that's good." The puzzlement on her face was nearly comic.

"It's just – "

Lily waited. She looked as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she picked at the sleeve of her nightgown. Remus watched her nervous fingers while he took several breaths in and out, wanting and not wanting to know the answer to the question he was about to utter. _Just say it_, he told himself.

"Aren't you scared of me?" he finally asked in a small voice.

Lily gazed at him dumbfounded for a moment, her eyebrow twitching once. She spoke quietly, deliberately. "I'm scared of the werewolf, not of you."

"But you've seen me – "

"There's nothing worse to see. We're past that part."

"Are we? Will we ever be?"

"I am," said Lily.

Remus sighed.

"I _am_," she insisted. "Why do you think I – we – " She stared past Remus at the wall, blinking hard. "How else could I have … it doesn't matter."

"I know, I know," Remus said soothingly, taking her face in his hands, making her look at him. "It doesn't matter to you." He was almost jealous of her certainty.

"One night a month. And I'll stay far, far away. Promise."

"You _should_ be afraid, Lily," Remus said darkly, running a thumb across her jaw.

She paused. "If Peter Pettigrew isn't scared of you, why should I be?"

She had a point. He dropped his hands from her face. "But Peter isn't my girlfriend."

"Am I your girlfriend?" Lily blinked several times, her expression vulnerable, waiting for his response.

Remus' throat worked for a moment. "Do you _want_ to be?"

She bit her lip and looked at Remus' hand before taking it. "If you're asking, then yes."

That sensation of everything changing washed over him once more, and there was a feeling of hope there, and of strength. Perhaps he'd lose his friends; perhaps not. Perhaps he'd gained something more last night with Lily; or perhaps he'd lose her in the end and have nothing. Somehow none of it mattered. He only knew that life was short, and if he let this woman slip through his fingers without giving her a fighting chance, he'd feel like the biggest coward he had ever known.

Resting an elbow against the wall, he leaned into her and kissed her mouth warmly, slowly, pushing the image of the werewolf firmly from his mind. Her fingers found their way to his jaw and held him gently. When he pulled his lips away, leaning his forehead against hers, his elbow against the old wallpaper and his other hand on the small of her back, he spoke softly. "After today, when we get back to school, I have to tell my friends about us."

Lily wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

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Remus, his parents, and Peter and Lily Apparated two blocks away from the cemetery in Wales where his grandparents would be buried; they walked to the gravesite together in silence. The group had to wear their most convincing Muggle attire because many of the Lupins' Muggle friends and relatives would be at the funeral, and most did not know that Jonathan Lupin was a wizard. The story that was told to the Muggle newspapers was that the Lupins were killed during a robbery; and, given the maps that were stolen, that was essentially the truth.

The service was a short one, but there were about a hundred people who had come to pay their respects. Late morning stretched into early afternoon as Remus spoke with his parents' and grandparents' old friends, many of whom he had never met before. Faces blended one into the next, and he heard himself saying the same things over and over again: _Thank you. Yes, it was a tragedy. Yes, I'm going back to school tonight. We appreciate your concern. No, there's nothing you can do, but thank you._

Remus politely extricated himself from a solemn conversation with a little white-haired witch and approached the two coffins. The lids were closed, of course; Owen had told Remus and Rowena that the Healers and Ministry of Magic officials had not been able to repair the bodies very well. The coffins stood next to each other, waiting to be lowered into the two new open graves in the family plot.

Remus placed his hands on his grandfather's coffin. It was made of dark mahogany, smooth and simple. The wood was cold in the chilly spring breeze, and Remus left his fingers there until it seemed that his hands were part of the wood itself. After a time, he realized he was whispering out loud, repeating words under his breath. It took a moment for him to realize what he was saying: _I'm sorry_. He gripped the coffin hard and, wiping his eyes, crossed around the open graves to his grandmother's coffin.

It was identical to his grandfather's and he pressed his cheek to it, not caring if anyone saw him do it. He wished he could give his grandmother a kiss, inhale her talcum powder scent, make her laugh with a stupid joke. He wished he could hear her voice. What advice would she give him now? What romantic poem about death could possibly make him feel better? Resting his cheek on the cool, chocolate-colored wood, he watched his hand as it slid along the top, off the edge, and down the side. As it did so, he noticed a figure leaning against a tree, watching him. An older gentleman was speaking to the fellow against the tree, but soon they shook hands and the older man left.

Remus stood upright and stared at the man. He wore a brown and black checkered Muggle dress suit and seemed to be speaking into a hand-held device of some sort. His white-blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the budding leaves above his head. His raised eyebrows gave him a peculiar expression of astonishment.

Remus strode toward the man. "Mr. Lovegood!"

Lucas Lovegood started, as if he hadn't expected the subject of his essay to speak to him. He clicked off his recording device, pocketed it, and extended his hand. "Hello, Remus! Nice to see you, nice to see you. I suppose I should tell you that I'm here to interview friends of the Lupins. Jonathan Lupin was quite a respected wizard, but I don't have to tell you that." He spoke gravely. "I don't wish to disturb you or your parents today. My sincerest sympathies to you all."

"Thank you," said Remus, shaking Lovegood's hand. He probably should have felt offended by the presence of a reporter today, but he felt strangely glad to see him here. "It's good to see you again," Remus said sincerely. "We didn't get a proper good-bye the first time we met."

"We didn't? I don't recall …"

"You had an appointment to make. Did you ever spot the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

"What? When? Where?" Lovegood circled himself, looking about the cemetery as if the mythical creature would pop out from behind a tombstone.

"Er, no, not here. The last time we met you were off to Shropshire to … oh, never mind." Remus loosened his tie. "But why _are_ you here? This is a funeral. I thought you wrote about fantastic beasts."

"Yes, yes, I did. I do. I'm covering the, er, passing of your grandparents."

"But that has nothing to do with fantastic beasts," Remus said, his voice lowered. "It was the Death Eaters. The Dark Mark was over the house."

"Yes, indeed," Lovegood nodded. "But I have a friend now at the Ministry. He told me to go and take a look at the – the, erm, the scene of the crime."

"What do you mean?" Remus said, feeling a hollowness somewhere inside his chest.

"The injuries were a bit – " Lovegood faltered, his eyebrows dropping. "Remus, I'm not certain I'm the one to tell you about this. And it's all speculation, anyhow."

But Remus had to know. And it would be easy enough to find out. Why shouldn't he learn what the reporter had discovered at the Lupins' house? They were _his_ grandparents, after all. If he couldn't use his Legilimency to track down his grandparents' killers, then what was the point of having the ability at all? After a moment's hesitation, he deliberately reached into Lovegood's memory and saw his grandparents' bodies again, but this time he saw their faces … and the trio of slashes across their left cheeks.

Madam Honeyduke's resonant voice echoed in his mind, and he could almost feel her fingers on his own scarred cheek now: _Fenrir's signature_.

Greyback had killed them. It felt as if the world had shifted underneath him; with wobbly knees, he quickly sat down on the ground, grasping new shoots of grass under his fingers. It felt as if he were at a carnival, spinning on a ride that was too fast for him. He wanted to put his forehead on the ground to stabilize himself, but he managed to keep himself upright by focusing on the earth beneath his hands.

"Remus!" Lovegood squatted next to him. "You all right, chap?"

"Yes, it's just been … rather a hard couple of days," Remus muttered, gritting his teeth and staring down at the dirt under his fingernails. His hands involuntarily gripped the earth as he tried to keep control of his emotions, to stay in the here and now.

But Greyback seemed to be doing away with Remus' family systematically. Why? What had Jonathan and Margaret Lupin ever done to offend Greyback, or Voldemort, or the Death Eaters? Was it _Greyback_ who wanted the maps? Remus felt rage brimming inside him, a bubbling fury that would soon, he was sure, make him scream and scream if he didn't get out of here soon. He had never thought he could kill someone; but if Greyback had been standing in front of him now, he thought that it would be easy, ridiculously easy, to hurl a killing curse at him. He would do it gladly, and serve time in Azkaban if he had to. He would end his days in satisfied madness, alone and justified. He could do it.

Remus turned his contorted face away so that Lovegood wouldn't see his scars. What if Lovegood had recognized the gashes on his grandparents' faces as those inflicted by a werewolf? If the journalist hadn't done so already, Remus didn't want him to make the connection between himself and the werewolves, or worse, Greyback. He had never felt so unclean in his life, so damaged, so diseased. He wanted to erase it all, to erase himself, so that Greyback would leave his family alone.

"I can only imagine what you've been through," Lovegood agreed, sitting on the cold earth with Remus and wrapping his arms around his knees. The reporter suddenly looked very young indeed, his pale skin looking wan in the bright sunlight. The two sat in silence for some minutes. From a distance, Remus saw Peter and Lily talking quietly a few feet away from his parents. Finally, heart pounding, he decided to press the reporter again.

"My – my Dad said that werewolves might have been involved," he lied, managing to keep a surprisingly even tone in his voice. His father had kept everything from him, to protect him; but Remus wasn't a child anymore. He had a right to know. Remus swallowed and went on. "He said that werewolves might have been there with the Death Eaters when my grandparents were murdered."

Lovegood sighed and looked toward the coffins. "That's what my friend at the Ministry thinks. That's what I think, too."

"Who was it?"

"My friend? Well, technically I'm not supposed to reveal my sources – "

"No, which _werewolf_ was it?" Remus asked firmly, blinking rapidly.

Lovegood stared at Remus in surprise. "Surely you could guess," he said bluntly.

Remus felt fear creep into his belly and settle there like a sickness. He inhaled to respond, but stopped himself quickly.

Lovegood continued softly. "Don't worry, Remus. This story is going to be about werewolves and their possible alliance with You-Know-Who … but you have my word that I won't write about you. You're still in school. I promise you here and now I will never reveal that Fenrir Greyback attacked _you_. I'm leaving that out of my report."

So Lovegood had finally discovered that Remus was a werewolf. And why wouldn't he? Remus had asked the journalist point blank about Greyback at their last meeting. Any reporter worth his salt would wonder why a seventeen-year-old was snooping around for information like that. But Remus' public Werewolf Registry record was supposedly sealed during his years as a student at Hogwarts. Had Lovegood's friend at the Ministry told him? Or, scars aside, was it simply obvious to anyone that he was a werewolf? It wasn't the first time he had wondered such a thing.

Remus scrutinized the reporter warily. "Why would you make me a promise like that? This is a big story. You could make a lot of money."

"It'll make me a lot of money whether or not I mention you," Lovegood smiled wryly. He looked at the coffins again and went on. "Someone did a favor for me once and helped me keep my job at the _Quibbler_ when Greyback's family was trying to get me fired. You're going to have a hard enough time finding work when you finish school without some journalist publicizing your condition a year ahead of time. Besides, you've been through enough as it is. I don't want Greyback to ruin any more lives than he already has."

Lovegood cocked his head at the look of consternation on Remus' face and clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, think nothing of it; I'm just trying to pass along a good deed." The reporter sighed and surveyed Remus with an expression of understanding. He lowered his voice. "I've met a few werewolves over the years. Most of them are just average people trying to get along like anyone else – except for twelve really bad days a year, of course. I'm sure you're no different."

Suddenly Remus thought that Lucas Lovegood wasn't nearly as absent-minded as he liked to appear. Remus nodded curtly, not certain how to reply to the man's generous words. Lovegood stood and offered Remus a hand to help him to his feet again. The two shook hands as they said their goodbyes.

"One more thing," Remus said quickly.

"Anything."

"Do you remember how you got into the Greyback house? How you got past the protections?"

Lovegood frowned and looked upward, his pale blue eyes darting back and forth as if he were sifting through mental files. Finally he brought his gaze back to Remus. "Can't say that I do. It's been a long time." He narrowed his eyes, a look of concern sweeping across his features. "You're not thinking of going there?"

"No, just curious," Remus lied.

And with no qualms whatsoever, he searched Lovegood's memory again. But what he came up with was a melody. It was a child's song, and a tune that he recognized: a simple little ditty with nonsense words, although he couldn't place it at the moment. This had to be some random memory Remus had somehow accessed by mistake. Perhaps the reporter really had forgotten how he got in. He shook himself, now feeling vaguely disgusted with himself that he had so casually entered a good man's thoughts, not once but twice.

"Your story is likely to stir up trouble," he said softly. "Please be careful, Mr. Lovegood."

"And you," Lovegood replied, squinting in the sunlight.

Remus went to rejoin his parents and Lily and Peter, leaving the reporter to interview more of the Lupins' friends. As he passed between the two coffins he noticed, for the first time, the sea of daffodils blooming near the family plot. They seemed out of place, too yellow and alive and innocent in such a grim and proper setting. He thought dimly that someone should pluck them all and put them somewhere else.

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_**A/N: I figured if I survived the last chapter without too many flames, I'd go ahead and post this one! Thanks for the kind reviews.**_

_**So, finally getting back to the werewolf plot. But another can of worms is about to be opened with the Marauders. **_

_**As Remus has just had a funeral, I'm not sure that a bribe is in order. So, review only if you feel moved to do so. ;)**_


	35. A Breach

Remus, Lily, and Peter trudged together along the road to Hogwarts after having Apparated from the Lupins' house after dinner to Hogsmeade. The ground was damp and spongy underfoot; and everywhere Remus looked in the darkness, little pale flowers turned their papery faces toward him. Trees were budding overhead, whispering mysteriously in the crisp evening breeze. His robes billowed behind him as he walked with his head down, his small suitcase swinging rhythmically with each step. He wanted to hold Lily's hand, but it wasn't time yet. First, he had to tell his friends – tell James. He owed him that much, though it terrified him. He couldn't think about it. For now, he contented himself with watching Lily's shoes stepping one in front of the other while Peter chattered about homework he needed to do. His chatter soon turned into a diatribe about the advantages of practical homework versus written theoretical essays. Remus was grateful for the inane banter; it kept him from thinking too deeply about what had happened over the past day and a half. How could so much change in so short a time?

Now Peter was going on about Sirius and how he had tried to talk with his brother Regulus before the Quidditch match on Saturday. Remus glanced at Peter in surprise, wondering when Sirius had decided to break his own rule about The Silent Treatment; it took a lot for Sirius to make that choice, but once he made it, it was for good. "If you ask me, I think Regulus is a lost cause," Peter said sagely. "I don't know why Sirius even bothered." Peter went on, and Remus watched his friend's fingers fiddling nervously with the collar of his cloak as they walked.

"Wait," said Lily sharply, walking quickly to a storefront where there were several posted photographs of missing witches and wizards. She stopped in front of one of the newest photos and gazed at it. "This is a student. I've seen him."

Remus and Peter joined her on either side. Meeting Remus' eyes with that vulnerable and skeptical gaze that he knew so well were the large, dark eyes of Madhav Sastri. Remus had tutored the Hufflepuff until the end of February, had given him advice over pumpkin juice about girls. He was fourteen. Apparently the boy had gone missing during Professor Sprout's class trip to Hogsmeade on Friday. It was an annual pilgrimage of third years, during which Professor Sprout replenished her supply of ale worms, and the Hog's Head taps were cleaned as well as they were ever likely to be cleaned. All future trips to Hogsmeade this year were officially cancelled, according to Headmaster Dumbledore's note at the bottom of the poster.

The three stood there, speechless, staring at Madhav's young, stern face for several minutes, and Remus felt a terrible hollowness inside his chest. Peter started and glanced behind them twice, shuffling from foot to foot and furtively watching as a few witches and wizards ambled past them on the road.

"Come on," said Remus at last, and he began walking again, head down. Things were bad and only getting worse, if such a thing were even possible. His heart raced, thoughts sped through his brain, and his body needed to move. Lily and Peter hurried to keep up with his long strides.

Once inside the front gate, they tramped up the stairs, passed through the portrait hole, and found the Gryffindor Common Room deserted. Perhaps everyone was still in the infirmary after the Gryffindor and Slytherin post-Quidditch brawl. Remus and Lily spoke short goodbyes to each other, not quite meeting each other's eyes as they turned toward their respective stairwells. They had promised to meet each other later, after everyone was asleep. As Remus and Peter climbed the steps to the boys' bed tower, however, they began to hear a woman speaking.

" … you're quite certain?" It was Professor McGonagall's voice. "Thank goodness none of the students were here!"

Heart thudding, Remus sprinted the rest of the way up the stairs, Peter following hastily behind. What on earth had happened? The sight that greeted him when he hurtled into the bedchamber made him drop his suitcase. It thumped onto the floor and fell on its side, its leather and brass handle squeaking as it landed.

McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Filch stood in the center of the room, and they all turned their faces toward Remus when he entered. Sweeping his eyes about him, Remus saw that all the bed curtains appeared to have been burned. His own curtains were reduced to mere rags, as if someone had decided to hang some laundry out to dry just prior to a volcanic eruption. There were scorch marks on the wall beside the window, but the window itself was intact. On the floor, Remus' old trunk lay in pieces, apparently having exploded, and its contents were strewn violently about the room. His books and clothes and letters from home lay awkwardly in corners and under other beds. Many of the items were singed or blackened. A burgundy sweater hung from a wall sconce over James' bedside table. Remus' Transfiguration textbook sat casually open on his bed, as if he had been reading it this morning and had dashed off late to class, leaving the book behind in his haste.

He closed his mouth, which evidently had been open. "What …?"

"A _student_," Filch spat, "managed to – "

Professor McGonagall placed a hand on his arm and he was quiet. The caretaker's eyes darted toward Dumbledore.

"No one was hurt," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "All of the boys from your class are still in the infirmary. There was a bit of a riot – "

"Peter told me," interrupted Remus.

Dumbledore nodded and glanced at Peter, who was staring at the debris on the floor. "This likely happened last night," the headmaster continued. "It was discovered by the house elves this afternoon when they entered the bedchamber to do their weekly cleaning."

"How – " Remus swallowed around the huge lump in his throat. He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

"We don't know," McGonagall answered with a creased brow. "But we are certain it was someone within Hogwarts."

It was then that Remus noticed that, although the other students' trunks had been rifled through, none of them had been blasted open. He stared at his own trunk, the blood pounding in his ears.

"You're pale, Lupin," said McGonagall in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "Sit down."

Remus, still transfixed by the sight of his ruined trunk, didn't answer. She moved toward him, and his hand reflexively went up, palm out, halting her movement.

He dimly heard Peter find his voice at last. "Why would they do this?"

_The map_, thought Remus as he stared at his trunk, where the Marauder's Map used to be. _There's nothing else in my trunk worth having._ _Whoever did this doesn't know Filch has the map. He confiscated it just before I went home, and no one knows that._

Before anyone could answer, Remus turned slowly toward the stairwell, leaving his suitcase lying in the middle of the room. He didn't heed the calls of Professor McGonagall or Peter. As he descended the stairs, he vaguely heard Dumbledore's quiet voice telling Peter to let him go. Exiting the Common Room, he walked with purpose until he found a series of deserted hallways. Once there, he wandered up and down, up and down, watching his own feet as they stepped in front of him, left, right, left, right. He thought briefly of Severus Snape. He could have done this; Remus wouldn't have been surprised. But it seemed heavy-handed, unlike Severus. If Severus wanted something, he'd steal it without your ever noticing it was gone.

Soon a terrible thought began to grow and blossom inside his brain; and with almost morbid fascination, his conscience stood aside and watched as the thought gradually flowered into an almost unrecognizable fruit. He walked and walked, trying to talk himself out of believing what his brain was telling him, but it was practically undeniable.

He had to find out.

* * *

The infirmary had been magically expanded to accommodate all the Gryffindors and Slytherins currently being treated for various hexes and curses. There were cases of fish scales, and weeping boils, and hair growing down to the floor, and extra limbs, and disfigurement, and bonelessness, and many ailments that were not visible to the naked eye. A shimmering barrier had been placed between the students of each house, presumably to curtail any further hexing. 

Remus scanned the group of Slytherins on the left, and the hollowness inside his chest felt almost unbearable when he saw that Sirius' brother Regulus was not among the patients. Was he never admitted to the infirmary after the match? If Sirius had casually told Regulus about the Marauder's Map, could Regulus have managed to sneak into the bed tower to try to steal it? His heart thudded as he realized that he very well could have.

On the right, he saw Sirius and James at the far end of the room, trying with varying degrees of success to play Exploding Snap; it was quite a feat, considering the fact that James's body was still slightly twisted and mostly boneless and neither one could sit fully upright yet. Their careless laughter sickened him. They hadn't noticed Remus when he came in, so he turned around and left as quietly as he had come.

* * *

Later, after Peter was asleep in the boys' bed tower, now magically repaired and restored, Remus waited for Lily in the darkened hallway where they had agreed to meet. He hadn't the words or the energy to tell her about the wrecked bedchamber, or his suspicions about Sirius and Regulus and the Marauder's Map. So when she finally appeared, stepping into and out of the shafts of moonlight as she walked past the windows toward him, he did the only thing he could do. 

He allowed her lips to keep his from having to speak.

* * *

_**A**__**/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews, everyone! I've worked on several chapters this weekend, so the next two should be up very soon.**_

_**Leave a review and enjoy a secret rendezvous with the Marauder of your choice. Angst is optional. ;)**_


	36. Momentum

The next three days passed quietly as Gryffindors and Slytherins slowly recovered and reappeared in their classes. It was odd, having only half or even as few as a third of the students normally there in each class. As a result, the lessons were strangely subdued; and Remus was reminded of the ghostlike silence of his living room at home, when he sat surrounded by the muffled quiet of his parents' house.

Thankfully, no one asked him any questions about his grandparents. He had expected stares of sympathy, pity, and frank curiosity; but, as he continually reminded himself, he wasn't the first Hogwarts student who had lost family members at the hands of the Death Eaters. It was doubtful that any curiosity would last more than a couple of days.

Remus was aware that his decision not to visit James and Sirius in the infirmary was bound to cause his friends some confusion, if not outright anger. He'd even avoided Peter so that he wouldn't have to answer any pointed questions about the matter – not that Peter had ever been known to ask any pointed questions, but there was always a first time. And Remus couldn't bear to hurl accusations at Sirius while he lay in a hospital bed; he wanted to confront him after he had recuperated. Nor could he tell James that he and Lily were together; James deserved a full recovery so that he could punch him in the face if he so chose. So Remus simply avoided them all, for now. The time for confessions and accusations would be here soon enough.

Now, after his last class, he meandered slowly, albeit with a pounding heart, through the forest toward the place where he would meet Lily. They chose a different location each day; and as terrible as the guilt was, Remus couldn't deny that it was also thrilling having such a secret. The secrecy was seductive in and of itself, and he had a difficult time concentrating during his classes. If he wasn't thinking about the last time he'd been with Lily, he was anticipating their next encounter.

His long legs carried him up the hill, and there was Lily, waiting, a blanket spread beneath her as she reclined with her arms tucked behind her head, staring into the sky, perhaps moving the clouds while she waited for him. A picnic basket sat at one corner of the blanket, although she hadn't bothered to unpack it. Conversation, and any other business they had to attend to, always came second. It was an arrangement they'd come to without a word, and Remus couldn't say that he minded.

As he neared the summit of the dragon's burial mound, he felt the heat coming off the earth; the warmth emanating from the ground was subtler now that the spring air temperature was rising, but it was still palpable nevertheless. Remus noted, with a tremor of pleasure that never ceased to amaze him, that Lily was still wearing her school uniform, with the little skirt, the skirt that had caused him no end of distraction in Potions today. When she saw him, she sat up and smiled, and his heart performed its ritual somersault. He smiled back and removed his cloak as he walked toward her. Nearing her, he tossed his cloak to the ground and pulled his jumper over his head, dumping it next to his cloak. As he sank to his knees she rose onto hers to meet him, and their lips met in a feverish greeting, as if it had been weeks since they'd last seen each other instead of mere hours. Her fingers loosened his school tie and threw it impatiently aside, then began working quickly on the buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile his hands couldn't decide whether they needed to remove her blouse or her skirt first, so one hand fumbled with the blouse while the other reached under the skirt to pull at her knickers. Lily tugged at his shirt and he was forced to remove his hands and mouth from her for a moment and shrug the clothing away. While his hands were briefly snarled within the shirtsleeves, she stripped out of her blouse and bra with a speed that would have astounded him, had he had the presence of mind to reflect on such a thing. He whipped off his undershirt and captured her lips again hungrily. Now that he could feel her skin against his chest, his fingers quickly unzipped her skirt and pushed it down to her knees, taking her knickers with it. Their kiss deepened for the briefest of moments before she pulled away from him to sit back and kick off the clothing, along with her shoes and socks. Then she was on her knees with him again, kissing him enthusiastically and unbuckling his belt. Soon his boxer shorts and socks and shoes joined his trousers in the piles of clothing next to them. He lowered her to the blanket and was already pressing into her when he realized that she was reaching for her wand. They quickly uttered the contraception spell, and with a gasp and a groan they were one.

Their lovemaking, on that first night, the days since, and today, was tinged with an undercurrent of hurry, and of desperation, as if they had to save each other from some unknown horror lurking just out of sight, as if they might at any moment be torn from each other's arms. Whether their bodies moved slowly together, or pounded roughly in a frenzy of longing, the urgency never left them. Remus felt it. He suspected Lily could, too. Now he pushed himself as deeply as he could into her, their breath hot on each other's faces, her eyes glistening as they pierced his. He moved as slowly as he could, covering her mouth with kisses and wishing, not for the first time, that he knew of a spell that could slow down time. As he continued to move, trying his best to draw out the moment for as long as possible, he watched in awe as her eyes unfocused, then closed, and she buried her face against his neck; and he heard the little vocalizations she made and sensed the tension in her body growing and felt the sweat on her lower back beneath his hand as her body unraveled itself for him. This, to him, always, each and every time, felt like the beginning of the end. But he couldn't slow his own climax once he'd felt hers, and so it was over yet again. And, as he panted into her cheek and shivered as her fingers tangled in the damp hair at the nape of his neck, he yearned once more for the next time.

Remus wanted to confess to her that he loved her, had loved her for years, for almost as long as he could remember, a boyish crush that had grown into something larger than he'd ever anticipated. He figured she knew – she'd said as much in the Common Room, just before they'd kissed all night on the sofa – but he wanted to make her certain of it. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was too soon. Perhaps he needed to come clean and tell James first. It would come, in time. It was only a matter of time, he assured himself. He rolled off of her and they lay there on the blanket, breathing heavily and holding hands and watching the fluffy clouds roll past them in the sky.

Later, after they'd gotten partially dressed and had eaten their picnic, Remus said, "I think Sirius suspects that I'm – that I've got feelings for you." What was left of their picnic lay in crumbs and rinds on the plates at their feet, the empty butterbeer bottles lying drunkenly on their sides. Remus' hands were tucked behind his head and he gazed at the tops of the trees surrounding them. The sky was that amazing blue that was too dark for daytime and too light for night, a kind of royal-midnight-peacock blue that seemed designed to accentuate and sharpen anything silhouetted in it: The very top of the astronomy tower. The budding trees. Lily's profile.

Lily propped herself on an elbow and nestled close to Remus, resting a hand on his chest. "I wondered if that's what he was talking about the night we went to Honeyduke's."

"When he's sniffing something out he's not very subtle. So, yeah." Remus placed a hand on top of hers, pressing it closer to his heart.

"Are you worried?" she asked, concern darting across her brow.

"Yes," he said frankly. "But."

"But what?"

"Yes, I'm worried about my mates disowning me. I'm more than a little worried about that." A heavy sigh left him. Truthfully, he hadn't allowed himself to think very hard about the reality of that consequence. He squeezed her hand. "But I also worry about you."

"Me?" Lily flushed. "Why?"

"You deserve to be on a fellow's arm with no pretense, no secrets. We shouldn't have to sneak. It's not just James; don't forget that I'm a werewolf."

Lily's brow furrowed as she sat back. "No one but your friends and I know – "

"And Dumbledore."

"Yes, but he's – "

"And Madam Pomfrey."

"Right, because she's – "

"And McGonagall."

"Well, that makes sense – "

"And Hagrid."

"Hagrid knows? How does Hagrid – "

"And Lucas Lovegood."

"The reporter? Wait, when did – "

"And let's not forget Severus." Remus sat up on his elbow and Lily was silent. "So all in all I'd say there's a good chance that everyone will know, sooner or later, wouldn't you agree?" His voice was harsher than he'd intended for it to be. Lily buttoned her blouse up the rest of the way and stared at the crusts on the plates in front of her, her cheeks red. Remus sat up and brushed his fingers across her jawline. "Lily." He spoke softly, apologetically. "Do you really want to be seen with someone who – "

"Stop," Lily said abruptly. She took his hand away from her cheek and held it in hers, squeezing it and rubbing her fingers across his knuckles absently.

They were silent, and Remus decided to stop pressing the matter. They'd have to face it sooner or later. He thought he'd be ready, but he really didn't know if Lily would be.

"But about James," Lily said firmly. "You shouldn't have to worry about losing your best friends. I mean, do you really think James will disown you when he finds out?"

There was a flash of feeling behind Lily's gaze, and Remus' stomach lurched. Something was lurking there, beyond the green veil of her eyes. Something he wished he hadn't seen at all. Something that looked suspiciously like a young man with dark, unruly hair and glasses and a jaunty gait. James and Lily at the Yule dance, colors and music whirling around them. A lopsided, sweaty smile at Quidditch. Study hall, sitting too close together, pages rustling as they were turned. Whispers, arguments, doors slammed. And something that unmistakably felt like fear, and frustration, and curiosity, and …

Remus turned away from her and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring down at the remains of their picnic.

" … What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Remus replied, trying to will his heart to slow down.

"I said we could tell them. Get it done in one fell swoop."

"Yeah," mumbled Remus, hardly hearing his own words. "I should tell him when he's out of the infirmary."

"That's what I said," Lily chided, sitting next to him and placing a hand on his back. "There's no rush."

He looked at her, mustering a smile. But now he couldn't stop the Legilimency from happening; he was too emotional. The memories and feelings blazed in front of him, as impossible to avoid as an explosion. There was James, and there was Sirius, the two almost interchangeable in Lily's eyes. Feelings of indignation and disgust wound themselves through her gut when she thought of Sirius and his careless pranks; the way he seemed to earn passing marks on his exams without ever seeming to do homework; the endless dalliances with girls she knew, with her friend Olivia. As Lily's jumbled mix of memories hurled themselves into Remus' brain, James' cockiness became Sirius', and Sirius' lechery became James'. There was practically no distinction between them in her mind's eye. Strangely, Remus felt compelled to defend James, and Sirius, to emphasize their differences, to assert their loyal friendship, their cleverness, their good intentions. But how could he do so without revealing that he'd been sifting through her thoughts? Besides, he had to admit he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to leap to their defense anymore. He felt quite disloyal indeed as he pulled himself out of her thoughts and let his gaze wander into the forest.

_She's crazy about you, you idiot_, he reminded himself. He'd seen it for himself, on this very hill, the last time they were here. In any case, she was probably feeling as guilty as he was about all this. That was probably all it was. Remus rubbed his eyes vigorously, trying to erase the images.

"Remus …"

He glanced at her. She was smiling, cocking her head in that adorable way.

_Just let it go, _he commanded himself._ You shouldn't have seen any of that. _

"Where did you go just now?" she asked, narrowing her eyes with a tight-lipped grin.

Remus closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, sighing. "The usual. My Dark Place, as Sirius calls it."

"Come back." Lily ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "It's nicer here with me."

"Yes," he smiled. His voice cracked on the word and he cleared his throat. "Yes, it is," he said more distinctly. And he brought his lips to hers, closing his eyes and shutting out all thought.

* * *

**_A/N: Thanks for reading. I promise that Remus won't keep procrastinating about telling James. But things are about to get even more complicated. ;)_**

**_Anyone who reviews gets a nice picnic over a dead dragon with Remus. Chocolate is on him. _**


	37. Silence Is Golden

"So what happened?" Remus asked as Peter shoveled porridge into his mouth at breakfast on Friday morning. "How did things end?"

Remus took a sip of his coffee and tried to appear unconcerned, as if he were asking out of curiosity, nothing more. Peter had brought up the topic of Regulus and Sirius again when they sat down this morning.

Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and then, realizing he'd gotten porridge on it, used his napkin to wipe off the sleeve. "Not much. Sirius went over to the Slytherin table," he said, gesturing behind him, "and they sat there for the longest time. I was expecting another fight – you know how they always yelled at each other last year – but no, they just talked."

"Hmm," murmured Remus. He took a bite of toast and watched Peter tuck into the bacon on his plate.

"They were still sitting there when James and I left." Peter spoke with his mouth full and continued to wipe absently at his sleeve with the napkin. "Sirius didn't say anything when he came to the Quidditch match later on."

"Interesting," said Remus.

"Strange, more like," said Peter. "You'd think after all this time _not_ talking to him that he would have told us what happened." He took too large a swig of pumpkin juice and began coughing.

"Hmm."

"Yeah, it was weird," Peter continued in a strangled voice. "But the weirdest thing was, Regulus was at the big fight here in the Great Hall, but he disappeared halfway through. You'd think he'd – I mean he loves a duel as much as Sirius. So you'd wonder – I mean, wouldn't you think he'd want to – "

Remus saw movement to his left, and when he looked he saw Lily crossing the Great Hall. She smiled at the two friends, her eyes lingering on Remus for a moment. Remus returned her smile, then brought his gaze back to his plate. He wiped his hands on his napkin, hoping that his cheeks weren't too red. She sat down next to him and grinned across the table at Peter. Underneath the table, however, she squeezed Remus' knee briefly. If his cheeks weren't red before, they must be now. _Damn you, sympathetic nervous system_, he cursed silently.

Luckily, at that moment he spotted James and Sirius entering through the huge doors, and he felt a pinching inside his chest. Madam Pomfrey must have considered them well enough this morning to be approved to go back to class. "Hey, look, Peter," said Remus.

As Peter turned away and started waving at the two boys, Remus mouthed at Lily with a strained expression, "_Don't_." And he squeezed her knee in retaliation, letting his fingers linger a bit longer than he probably should have done.

"_Sorry_," she mouthed back with a smile, not looking sorry at all. Remus grinned at the blush rising on her cheeks. As distracted as he was by recent events, and by the break-in of the boys' bed tower, he was infinitely more distracted by Lily whenever she was around. And he had to admit he was pleased that he caused her a bit of distraction, too.

Greetings were exchanged in a rather stilted way, and James and Sirius apologized for missing the funeral of Remus' grandparents. He shrugged it off, trying not to think about the images of his grandparents' bodies again, and he realized that his friends must think he hadn't visited them in the infirmary because he was angry with them for the thoughtless brawling which had left them both incapacitated and unable to attend the funeral. He supposed they were right, partially. They asked how Remus was feeling, and if his parents were all right.

After Remus assured them that everyone was doing as well as could be expected, he saw James watching Lily. But no joke was forthcoming this morning. James hadn't made a joke or performed a prank for Lily's benefit in quite some time, since the afternoon Sirius and Peter released the Cornish pixies at Quidditch practice.

Perhaps he really _was_ growing up, after all; perhaps he was beginning to recognize that his old methods of wooing were not to her liking. But James couldn't guess that, rightly or wrongly, and despite lack of evidence to the contrary, Lily considered James no better than Sirius in the area of romance. The thought was not comforting to Remus, and he wanted to tell James about their relationship right now, so that he'd stop looking at her like that once and for all. But suddenly he felt a pang of sympathy for James and his moon-eyes; after all, hadn't Remus worn that same expression for two years now? It was a fluke, a strange twist of fate, that it was he, Remus, sitting next to Lily, brushing her fingers with his under the table, rather than James. Still, though, James had to be told.

_But not now_, he thought. _Not in front of everyone_. He had to get him alone. Which was easier said than done with Sirius around. The two were inseparable.

Which would make it difficult to confront Sirius, as well. The accusation Remus was about to confront Sirius with could shatter their friendship, whether or not it was true. He tried to search his friend's eyes for some indication of the truth, but he couldn't catch a glimpse. He'd now learned for certain that Regulus wasn't injured and therefore never taken to the infirmary after the post-Quidditch fight, which meant that he was free to sneak into the Gryffindor bed tower that night. He was a good-looking kid, like Sirius; he could have gotten the password from any Gryffindor if he was charming enough … or if he threatened them with his ties to Death Eaters. And who else could have told him about the map but his own brother? If Peter only knew the seed he'd planted in Remus' brain, he'd probably hex himself. Remus gritted his teeth.

"So who trashed our room?" mused James to no one in particular. He had heard about the infiltration from Peter while they were in the infirmary. "And why did they demolish Remus' trunk, in particular?"

"Well," said Lily, "all the girls think it was Adderton and Cromwell." They were the two most obviously hateful Slytherins, and Remus had given them more than a few detentions over the past year; it was a reasonable assumption that it might be them.

"Maybe," James replied. "But it'd be hard enough for one to sneak in, much less two."

"I guess," she said, sipping thoughtfully from her teacup.

"Besides," added Remus, "they're not the brightest bulbs. I doubt they could pull it off."

"Could be Snivellus," James went on.

"Could be," agreed Sirius, raising his coffee to his lips while keeping his eyes on the table.

"Not his style, though," Remus said. "Too heavy-handed."

"And again, why Remus' trunk?" shrugged James. "He'd go after mine, or Sirius', more like."

_Unless he knew about the map_, thought Remus. But he still thought it was unlikely.

Sirius spoke to Peter. "Didn't the Fat Lady see anything?"

"She's not talking," Peter responded.

"What do you mean, she's not talking?" asked James, wrinkling his brow. "Isn't she, you know, _required_ to talk?"

"That's just it," said Remus. "She _won't_ talk about it. McGonagall interrogated her, and the Fat Lady just stood there with her mouth gaping open." He'd questioned her himself with the same result, and his Legilimency didn't seem to work with figures in paintings.

"It's almost like she _couldn't_ say anything," Peter supplied.

While the conversation went on, Remus tried again several times to make eye contact with Sirius, to see if he could prove or disprove his suspicions about Regulus. But Sirius didn't once look at Remus. Did Sirius suspect at all that his brother had done the deed? If so, had he any idea _why _Regulus had tried to get in? Was Sirius perhaps feeling guilty about his part in the destruction of the bedchamber, of Remus' trunk? Was _that_ why he wouldn't look at Remus?

As he took a final sip of his coffee, another thought burrowed its way into his brain like a worm into an apple, a thought so horrible that he had to excuse himself immediately, leaving Lily and his friends behind. Absorbed in his dark thoughts, he walked to class alone, wondering if he was crazy for thinking such a thing: If Sirius had told Regulus about the Marauder's Map and which people, exactly, were involved in the making of it, but not _where_ it was, could Regulus have told his Death Eater friends about it? Remus' grandfather had helped him create the map, and his friends knew it. Could the Death Eaters and Fenrir Greyback have started searching for the map, not at Hogwarts, but at his _grandparents' house?_

_No, it couldn't be_, Remus thought. _It can't be_.

Remus darted into an empty classroom and stood against the wall, heart pounding and palms sweating, until his shaking knees forced him to sit down. He remained there for several minutes and was late to his first class. And after brooding through his first class, he was late to his second one because of sending a cryptic, rushed owl to his parents, asking them to please, _please_ reinforce the protections on the house.

* * *

Later that afternoon Remus found Sirius in Study Hall and, surprisingly, he was alone. Remus' blood coursed faster as he approached him. 

"Padfoot," he murmured.

"Moony."

Remus set his book bag down on the table across from his friend, who appeared to be writing a note to a girl rather than studying. He didn't even glance up at Remus as he sat. Remus absently pulled out a book and some parchment, adrenaline rushing sickeningly into his extremities as he considered what he was about to do. He looked around at the rest of the students, many of whom he knew. Severus Snape sat near the wall next to the door, his nose buried in a book, as usual. The nearest students were two tables away. Here and there in the hall were several study groups whose members spoke in low tones, so thankfully the buzzing room wasn't entirely quiet.

"Sirius," Remus began softly, "we need to talk."

Sirius raised his eyes and looked up at Remus. He smiled wryly. "Yes, I'd say we do."

Remus glanced at the other students at the nearby desks and swallowed. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Sirius cocked his head, looking at him matter-of-factly. "Why, are you going to cry?"

_Merlin, he can be so callous_. Surely he wasn't referring to his grandparents' deaths. "No," Remus said levelly. "But this is rather a sensitive matter, and I'd – "

Sirius leaned back in his chair so that he was balanced on the rear legs. He crossed his arms and chuckled. "Spit it out, young man."

What was he on about? Remus felt his face grow hot. "Not here."

"Why not here?" Sirius' eyes glinted dangerously.

Now that he held his direct gaze, Remus tried to search for a conversation with Regulus in Sirius' steely eyes, but all he could see was James.

James.

_Oh no_, thought Remus.

"I'm not going to play games with you," said Remus evenly, over the pounding of the pulse in his ears. "Come on, let's – "

"No? No games with me?" Sirius leaned forward again with his elbows on the desk and spoke quietly, his voice bitter. "How about with James?" His gaze was as ruthless as Remus had ever seen it, and it shook him more than a little.

He felt the rest of the room fall away, and all he could see was Sirius glaring at him. A series of images of himself and Lily, from Sirius' point of view, crowded his mind. This was not happening here, not now, not before he'd had a chance to talk to James. Remus stared back at him, wondering how much he should say, and if he could keep his face from revealing anything before he found James. He, of all people, had a right to know first.

But Sirius kept speaking. "I don't know what's going on between you and Little Red, and I don't want to know." His jaw clenched several times before he went on. "But I'd like to suggest that it stop."

Remus blinked. Then his brow twitched. A moment passed before the gall of what had just come out of his friend's mouth hit him. When it did, he nearly laughed out loud. "You'd – you'd _like to suggest_ – "

"This isn't a negotiation," Sirius snapped in a hiss. "Like I said, I don't want to know. I don't _need_ to know. And neither does James, if that's what you're after."

Remus felt himself reddening and his heart pounded faster. "Who do you think you are to sit there and tell me – "

"Shut up," Sirius spat. He glowered at him steadily for several seconds. "You're going to ruin" – he pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply – "_everything_."

Remus stood and stuffed his book and parchment back into his bag, but Sirius quickly crossed around the desk, blocking his path to the door. He went on in a furious whisper. "Do you think there's any chance in _hell_ that this could end well? What are you going to do, ride off into the sunset together?"

"Move, Sirius," said Remus in a low voice, looking past his shoulder at the door.

"Have a nice little wedding?"

"Shut your mouth," growled Remus.

"Squeeze out a few pups – "

Remus shot his eyes back at Sirius. "You've _no_ idea how I feel about her!"

"Neither do you, mate," smirked Sirius. "The first one's always – "

Remus' arm shot out and he shoved past him toward the door. But Sirius grabbed his elbow and spun him around. Remus dropped his satchel and shoved him, but Sirius seized his arms and pushed him to the floor, sitting on him and pinning his arms down. Remus was acutely aware of everyone in the study hall now staring at them, including Severus; and he had a sudden and unexpected twinge of empathy for the Slytherin, who had been overpowered by Sirius more times than probably even Remus knew. He had the odd sensation of being outside his body looking in, and he thought that this was likely to be the most embarrassing moment of all his years at Hogwarts. He didn't struggle; that would only make it worse. So he looked into his friend's face and waited. Minutes seemed to tick by – but surely it was only seconds – while he felt his uneven breath, in and out, in and out.

"Silence is golden," remarked Sirius sagely, his eyes boring into Remus', his nose mere centimeters away.

But even in his vulnerable position, Remus couldn't let Sirius have the last word, not when he was so wrong. He spoke harshly through clenched teeth, a ragged whisper. "Why does it scare you so much that I might actually be in lo – "

Suddenly Remus felt his throat close up. For a split second he couldn't breathe. Then his breath hitched and he started coughing violently. It went on for some time. Sirius looked at him, concern twitching on his brow; finally he stood up and watched him until the coughing ceased. He offered his hand to help him up. Remus ignored it, shouldered his bag and stalked toward the door, still clearing his throat as he went. As he neared the doorway, he noticed Severus watching him with a thoughtful expression.

Remus stared at him. He tried briefly to pry into Severus' thoughts, to see if somehow he, unlikely as it was, knew about the map, if he'd somehow seen it when he'd gotten into Remus' mind, if it actually could have been Severus who stole into the Gryffindor tower that night rather than Regulus; but it was as if there was a barrier behind his flat, black eyes that he couldn't get past. The corners of Severus' mouth twitched, although his eyes remained sober, almost grave.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Severus intoned.

The two of them peered at each other for several, almost surreal, seconds, then Severus lowered his gaze to his book once more. Shivering, Remus stepped into the hallway and headed back toward the Common Room.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Here's a little tidbit that may entice you if you like Remus and Lily fics, or Marauder fics in general. **Lady Bracknell** and I have started a new LJ community for Remus, Lily, and Remus/Lily fics. It's called Red and The Wolf, and you can find it here: **redandthewolf dot livejournal dot com**. Of course you'd have to take out the spaces and put real dots where the word "dot" appears. ;) So if you're looking for a place to read and/or write some new Remus/Lily fic, go sign up! We'll be having our first fic challenge soon! I look forward to seeing you there:D_


	38. Passwords and Wordless Spells

_**A/N: Profuse apologies are in order for the delay in updating this fic! I am indeed planning to finish this story, I promise. :) **_

_**OK, to recap: Remus is trying to figure out how to get into the Greyback family mansion to find evidence, because he figures Greyback is behind the recent werewolf attacks and the subsequent disappearances of the victims, as well as the deaths of Remus' grandparents (because of the Dark Mark, he knows the Death Eaters were involved there, as well). Remus suspects Regulus is behind the sacking of their bedchamber in an attempt to find the Marauder's Map, which only Remus knows that Filch has confiscated; and he suspects Sirius may have carelessly mentioned the map to Regulus. Remus and Lily are continuing their secret affair, and Remus still hasn't told James about it. Sirius knows about the affair and has suggested that Remus not tell James, that he should instead end it. **_

… _**I think that's about it. Now, in this chapter, some things will be resolved and some will be made more complicated. Read on. ;)**_

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"Professor?"

"Enter."

Because of past detentions with his friends, Remus had been inside Professor McGonagall's office before; so he wasn't surprised to see that it was spotless as usual. The large desk in the center of the room was not cluttered with papers and mechanical objects, as Dumbledore's was; in fact, it was polished so severely that he guessed he would spy his reflection in it if he were close enough to lean over it. As he glanced at the bookshelves to his right, he admired the texts arranged alphabetically according to author and placed in sections according to subject. He had already made a mental note to try such as system if he was ever lucky enough to have an office of his own in which he could keep a library of books.

"Have a seat, Lupin," Professor McGonagall said, her profile still to him as she peered down her nose at a large volume resting open on a podium to the left of her desk.

Remus sat on a straight wooden chair and looked around. He could see the Quidditch pitch through the window opposite him. Above him, zooming about the ceiling, were several models of toy broomsticks, some of them out-of-date and, now, probably quite valuable. He tried to stifle a smile but was too late as McGonagall turned sharply and seated herself at her gleaming desk.

"Gifts from former students," she explained, glancing upward at the toys. "Over the years I seem to have amassed a collection."

"Oh," said Remus, impressed.

"So," she said, fingers splayed across a length of parchment she had just Summoned, "you are considering becoming an Auror."

"That's right, Professor."

She dipped a quill in her inkwell, pursing her lips. "I had expected you a few months ago. You spoke to Headmaster Dumbledore in January, did you not?"

"Erm, yes. Yes, I did."

"Any reason for the delay? Because it's only your future we're discussing."

No one could manage to make Remus squirm more than the woman seated across from him now. He willed his legs to keep still, his hands not to fidget.

"No, ma'am," lied Remus. "Just – busy."

"Hmm," she murmured. "Well, then, let's see what credentials you've got and what you'll need." She Summoned a file from a cupboard behind Remus and opened it neatly next to the parchment. Remus saw his name written on a tab sticking out of the file. She jotted down notes silently for a moment, now and then muttering to herself. At last she removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

For some reason that action worried Remus. He remained silent.

"You've done well in all the required courses except for Potions. If you keep working hard, I don't think you'll need to worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, or Transfiguration. You've got first-hand experience in the Muggle world, which will be to your advantage when you interview. I would recommend continuing Arithmancy or Herbology next year. Do you have a preference?"

"I'd like to do both," said Remus.

"May I make a suggestion?" said McGonagall, replacing her glasses.

"Of course."

"You may want to drop one of those, to give yourself extra time to work on Potions. You've only got Acceptables the last two years. You need, of course, Exceeds Expectations next year, if you hope to qualify for Auror training." She paused. "And you may want to stop tutoring. Unless you're still considering teaching instead."

Remus looked at his hands and noticed they were fidgeting. He clasped his fingers together to make them stop and raised his eyes to the professor again. "Those are good ideas, Professor," he agreed. "But I can't."

She placed her quill on the desk. "Can't what?"

"I can't be ordinary when I finish. I've got to have something more to show than just the basic courses. I'll work harder in Potions. I can get up earlier, and work longer hours on Saturday and Sunday. I'll take Herbology and – "

"Lupin – "

"I'll keep tutoring, in case I don't qualify for Auror. Then I can look into teaching. And Arithmancy would come in handy in case neither of those works out and I have to – "

"Mister Lupin," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "You cannot possibly prepare for every eventuality."

"Yes, I can," he said, feeling agitated. "I have to."

The professor was still as she looked into Remus' face. "Professor Dumbledore and I would, of course, write letters of recommendation to the Ministry of Magic, and – "

"But they've never hired a werewolf before. Have they?"

She glanced at the large volume on the podium and pursed her lips. "No, they haven't."

Remus looked at his clasped hands again, watched his thumbs jockeying for the top position. He willed them to be still again. _This_ was why he hadn't wanted to come talk to McGonagall. There was no such thing as a secure future for a werewolf, so there was hardly any use in planning for one. He wished he would never have to leave Hogwarts.

"But," McGonagall went on briskly, "it's just as likely that no werewolf has ever _applied_ for work at the Ministry, given how werewolves have been – are still – treated. You'd be a fine example for others, and – "

"Pardon me, Professor, but I need to pay the rent. If I'm an example, great, but that's not my primary concern." It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of this voice. He tried to soften it. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "Don't apologize. It is the _Ministry_ that should apologize. And we'll give them a chance to do so when you send your application to the Auror department."

Remus nodded, although he was far from being convinced by her confidence. "I'm keeping all my classes," he said, clasping his fingers tightly together.

"Very well," said McGonagall with a sniff.

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Later that night, during his prefect duties, Remus patrolled the halls alone, his thoughts swirling from the future to the now and back again. He almost wished he'd catch someone out after curfew, just to have something to distract him from his worry. He had resolved to speak with James tomorrow about Lily, no matter what. He couldn't take the guilt and the sneaking around, and Merlin knew Lily deserved better than that. Besides, aside from his "furry little problem," Remus had never lied to James before; his friend deserved to know what was going on right under his nose. He couldn't stand the thought of James feeling a fool, though it was too late now to take any of it back.

Remus understood that he had to prepare himself for the worst, but at least having it out in the open would be one less thing to torment him. Of course, no longer having any friends would create a lot more _time_ for worry, so it might all even out anyhow. He felt sick just thinking about it. How had he gotten himself into this mess, having to choose between love and friends? But there was no way out, now that he was here. He couldn't give Lily up, not now.

Quiet footsteps caught his attention, and he called out, "Hello?"

The footsteps rounded the corner, and there was Lily, wearing a triumphant expression.

"Bet you'd love to know what I figured out last night," she whispered as she approached him. "Where can we go?"

Remus looked at his pocket watch and saw that he had another forty-five minutes of patrolling duty, forty-five minutes before he'd have to figure out how to sneak Lily back into Gryffindor tower. She was taking risks almost every night, meeting him after curfew like this.

"Come on," he whispered, taking her hand.

It was someplace new each night they met. Tonight he led her to an out-of-the way alcove in which a large, circular window looked out onto the forest. They sat on the rounded stone framework at the bottom of the thick, beveled glass. Clouds passing over the moon cast shadows on their faces now and then, making their skin look alternately white and grey; but Lily's eyes flashed gloriously as she struggled to keep her grin contained, and Remus couldn't resist kissing her and pulling her onto his lap, where she pressed against him in a most delicious manner.

"Listen," she whispered between kisses. "The way to get inside the Greyback house. I've got it."

"Wh – What?" Remus sat up straight. "When? How?"

"Well, Sirius was right. The 'merzi, et cetera' that the delivery man had written on the back of that list of sweets was short for a password to get into the manor. I kept thinking of it in terms of languages, or potions, but of course I couldn't figure it out. But last night when I was taking a bath I started humming a song my dad used to sing to me and Petunia …"

Lily hummed a tune, and after several measures Remus found himself humming along with it. It was something his grandmother had sung to him as a boy, something familiar and friendly that called to mind quiet evenings in front of his grandparents' hearth, curled up with a mug of hot chocolate and a stack of comic books.

"You know it?" asked Lily.

"Yes," said Remus, "yes, but I can't remember what the words are."

Lily sang quietly. "_Maresydotes and doseydotes and liddlelamseydivey_."

"Yes!" Remus whispered, and he sang the rest with her. "_A kiddleydivey too, wooden ewe_ – I remember! It was a nonsense song, but when you slowed it down it made sense."

They spoke the words together "_Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kid will eat ivy too, wouldn't you?_"

"Maresydotes. That's the 'merzi.' Brilliant," said Remus, kissing Lily and smiling with his forehead against hers. "You are, you know." She laughed, a quiet puff of air that he felt on his chin.

Remus' grandmother had introduced the song to him shortly after he was bitten, saying cryptically, "Everything is what it is," and she proceeded to sing that little ditty as if it gave him permission to be exactly who he was at all times, and that included being a werewolf.

And now Remus remembered that that was the snatch of tune he'd heard when he'd searched Lucas Lovegood's memory for a password, only he hadn't recognized it at the time, much less made the connection to the delivery man's scrawled "merzi" on the back of the papers they had discovered on the night they'd snuck into Honeydukes. His grandmother had sung it to him. Lily had heard it as a child, too.

And so, probably, had Fenrir Greyback, Remus realized with a shudder.

"It works, too," Lily went on. "I Apparated there today, and it's true – you can't get in without – "

"Hold on, hold on," said Remus, grasping her hips in his hands. "You Apparated where?"

"To the Greyback manor. We got the address that night – "

"I know, but you went there _alone?_"

"After classes," said Lily impatiently. "I had to see if I'd figured it out. If the password worked – "

"No, Lily," said Remus. His heart pounded horribly in his throat. "No, no, no. Tell me you didn't go there alone."

"Well, of course I did! Remember, the _Quibbler_ said the place was a wreck, like it was abandoned – "

"No, no, as if someone very messy still _lived_ there. And perhaps he still does." Remus slid Lily off his lap and took her face in his hands. "Promise me you will never, _ever_ go there alone again. I want to search the place, too, but I have no intention of going there alone – "

But as he spoke he realized with a hollow feeling that he might have to, if he lost all his friends tomorrow.

"I didn't go in," said Lily in a small voice. Finally, as if hearing the horror in Remus' voice had tipped some set of sensible scales inside her, fear shone in her eyes. "I just opened the door and shut it again. And I came right back. Promise."

"Lily … " Remus began. He clutched her to him, burying his face in her hair and trying hard not to shiver. "You can't – you just – Lily, I – " He wanted to say _I love you_, but his throat closed up and he could speak no more, could voice none of the terrible things flashing through his mind about what would happen to him if something happened to _her_.

Lily nestled closer to him, gathering his robes in her fists. "I won't go there alone again," she whispered.

She looked into Remus' eyes and he nodded, running the backs of two fingers along her cheek. Then he cupped her nape and kissed her once, twice, harder than he usually did; but he couldn't _not_ kiss her that way tonight, after what he'd found out, after what could have happened to her because of him. His fear made her kisses necessary, and he couldn't seem to tear his lips away.

They kissed for a long while, and still Remus couldn't speak. Later, when Lily unbuttoned his trousers, he remained voiceless. They made love on the bare stone of the hollowed-out window frame, and all he could do was sigh into her wet mouth. She whispered his name into his ear when her body collapsed over his, and he could only run his tongue along her salty neck, heating the sweaty places with his ragged breath.

"Tomorrow," he finally managed between kisses. "Tomorrow, I'll tell – " But he couldn't say that, either. _Tomorrow I'm giving up James_. His throat felt tight, as if he were about to cry, but there were no tears in his eyes. "Stay," he said simply.

Lily looked up at him, her solemn eyes darting back and forth between his, and nodded.

Under the eye of the moon, lying on the curved stone base of their round window, they curled up under his cloak and held each other for a long time until they fell asleep.

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"Where were you last night?" asked James as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "You've been out all night again."

James gestured at Remus' rumpled shirt and waggled his eyebrows. Peter took the pitcher from him and nearly spilled it into the bowl of porridge sitting in the center of the table as he realized that Remus was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Lily, fortunately, had decided to skip breakfast and go back to the girls' tower before classes.

"Fell asleep on duty," he muttered. He caught Sirius' eye as he sat down, and there was no mistaking the hint of approval in his pursed lips. Of course Sirius wanted him to remain silent. Remus wanted to hit him.

"Is that all?" asked James with a grin. He shoveled some eggs onto his plate and began devouring them, shaking pepper onto his meal between mouthfuls. "How boring," he said, mouth full. "I thought maybe you'd got a girlfriend."

Remus tensed, and so did Sirius.

It was so easy for James to believe his lies. Remus had been without a girlfriend for so long that it didn't even cross James' mind that maybe, just maybe, Remus might want to be discreet about having one now.

But Remus had made up his mind yesterday: he would tell James tonight, after classes. He'd go and sleep somewhere else, in one of the hidden passages of Hogwarts, or in the Shrieking Shack if he had to, afterwards, if James wanted rid of him. He hadn't told Lily that he was going to do it, hadn't been able to say the words to her, last night or this morning. But she would be relieved when it was over; there would be no more secrecy, no more sneaking about after hours and on the weekends.

He hadn't recently seen James alone, without Sirius, even for a second lately. So, resolutely ignoring Sirius' eyes, he took a deep breath and said, "James, we've got to talk – "

"What about getting into the Greyback house?" blurted Sirius, stirring sugar into his coffee and clinking the spoon rather loudly against the lip before setting it down beside his plate. "What happened to _that_ little mission, eh? All those people missing – Tristan, Araminta, Madhav. Don't you still want our help?" He looked meaningfully at Remus, challenging him.

"Of course I do, Sirius," said Remus. His heart felt like it had swelled to three times its normal size and was now battering like a wild animal wanting out of its cage. "But only if you want to – "

"I've been thinking," said James. "We've put this off long enough. Tomorrow's Saturday. We should pop on over to the Greyback mansion and see if we can figure out that password. Between the four of us – five if Lily comes, too – we can do it."

Remus shook his head. "She's already figured it out."

Peter swallowed his bite of bacon and whistled. "She's smart, that one."

Sirius' eyes darted towards Peter, then back at Remus. He looked down at his plate and used a fork to fiddle with his food. He stabbed a bit of sausage with it and bit off the end.

"It's a song," said Remus. His mouth felt dry and suddenly he wasn't very hungry.

"Really?" said James. "It's a song? She sussed it out? How'd she do that?"

"I dunno," said Remus. "Her dad used to sing it to her."

"Cool," said James around another mouthful. He was so trusting. It wouldn't cross his mind to wonder how Remus knew these things, or why Lily and he were having conversations about Fenrir Greyback without _them_, Remus' oldest friends.

Sirius glared at Remus, who dropped his gaze and began to play with his food as well. This was miserable. It was awkward and strange, in ways he'd never thought possible. He felt ill.

"So, Prongs, I've got to talk to you tonight," said Remus quietly to his plate.

"We'll make a plan for how we'll search the Greyback place," said Sirius, talking over him. "Right, Peter?"

"Sure," Peter said nervously. "Right."

Remus stared at Sirius, who raised his eyebrows as if daring him to contradict him. All right, if he wanted to be there, Remus would just say it to all of them at once.

"Fine," said Remus. He forced down his breakfast and didn't speak for the rest of the meal.

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Because he didn't want her caught in the crossfire, Remus didn't tell Lily about the meeting. She was supposed to spend some time with her friend Olivia tonight, so she had told Remus she couldn't meet him later; the two girls had already disappeared into the girls' tower earlier this evening. And when the last Gyffindor shuffled up to bed, Remus closed his book with a pounding heart. James, Sirius, and Peter had just finished a game of Exploding Snap, and James now reclined with his socked feet on the low table in front of him.

Remus drew in a breath to speak; but of course Sirius cut him off, saying, "So, tomorrow. We'll need James' invisibility cloak."

Remus sighed. "Of course."

"And Lily's emergency potions kit, just in case," said James.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. "D'you really think we ought to bring Lily? Might be dangerous."

"_Will_ be," said Remus, staring hard at Sirius. "But she can handle it."

_You're not going to dictate this one_, thought Remus. Several ugly thoughts flitted behind Sirius' eyes as the two glared at one another, but Remus quickly managed to shut them out.

"We can Apparate from Hogsmeade," said Peter.

"But no one's allowed to go there anymore since that kid Madhav disappeared," said James, tapping his chin with a finger.

"Since when does that stop us?" Sirius, arms folded, propped his feet up on the low table in front of him and tilted his chair back. "That's what the cloak is for."

"It'll take us forever to walk down there," said Peter, "because we barely all fit under that cloak anymore as it is."

"And whose fault is that, big boy?" asked Sirius, eyeing Peter's growing paunch.

"Aw, come on," whined Peter. "You lot grew about a foot each last year."

"But at least ours was _up_ rather than _out_," said James.

"Shut up," said Peter with a sullen look.

"But you've got a point," said James. "If Lily comes, too, there's no way we can all fit. Much as I'd love to be in such close quarters with her."

James shot a pair of mischievous eyes at Sirius, but his friend didn't offer a sexist quip in return as he usually did. Instead Sirius busied himself with tracing a circle on his knee.

James paused for a moment, then glanced back at Remus. "D'you think she'll come?"

"I'm not sure we should go tomorrow," said Remus.

"Why not?" asked James.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, and Sirius' still, even gaze held a thousand warnings.

"Because I've got to tell you something first," said Remus, "and I'm not sure you'll still want to go after I'm – "

"Moony," said Sirius, lowering his chair to the ground, "this is not a good idea."

Remus stood up, needing to move. He paced behind Sirius' chair, feeling his pulse throbbing hard in his veins. He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath, then two. On the third one, he decided to get it out all at once. "I've been – "

But his throat tightened, and he couldn't finish.

Sirius pushed his chair back, stood up, and faced Remus. "I really think you should keep this to yourself," he murmured.

"Sod off, Sirius," said Remus, glaring hard at him.

With that, Sirius' posture changed in the subtle way it always did when he was about to fight someone. Everything became symmetrical, his stance, his limbs, even the expression on his face; and his right hand – his wand hand – twitched.

Remus cleared his throat and tried again. "Lil – "

His throat closed up again and this time, when he caught his breath on a sudden inhalation, he found himself coughing for a long minute. What was happening? He circled the room, clearing his throat and rubbing it.

"Moony, what's going on with you?" asked James.

Remus shook his head, his brow furrowing. He didn't know. He'd try again. "James, I've fallen – "

Again, his voice stopped working, as if he were suddenly emotional and could no longer speak. But he _wanted_ to speak; he simply, physically couldn't do it.

It had happened last night, too, when he'd tried to tell Lily that he loved her, and when he'd tried to say that he was planning to tell James about them. And it had happened for the first time in study hall, when he'd tried to make Sirius understand that he –

Sirius.

Sirius had been sitting on Remus' chest when he'd uttered, smugly, _"Silence is golden."_ It was a spell, wasn't it? A spell of such magnitude that Remus couldn't speak about his love for Lily. How had Sirius managed that? How long, truly, had he known about the two of them? Long enough to perfect such a horrible, violating spell?

A _wordless_ spell. Perfect.

Oddly, Remus felt himself smiling as he drew his wand, pointing it at Sirius' chest. Sirius seemed taken aback – and that satisfied Remus, he couldn't deny it – but he was only thrown for a moment and then he, too, drew his wand and pointed it at Remus. He grinned back. It could almost be a friendly expression, if one didn't notice the ferocity in his steely grey eyes.

"Erm, fellows?" squeaked Peter as he rose from his chair.

"What the hell is going on?" asked James.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," replied Remus honestly.

Heart thudding, he backed into the main sitting area, to have more room to fight. Sirius advanced towards him and began to circle the room slowly so that Remus had to follow suit, keeping him in sight.

"What do you _mean_ you can't tell me?" asked James as he rose from his seat. "For crying out loud, put your wands away, you idiots."

"Someone's – " Remus tried to say _hexed me_, but again his throat tightened and the words wouldn't come. He shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. "Well done, Sirius."

Sirius' brows knit for a second in apparent confusion – how dare he play the innocent, the self-righteous? – but he said, "You've made the right choice."

"What the bloody hell are you two _on_ about?" James asked again, this time stepping between his two friends and pulling his own wand from the rear pocket of his trousers. "Remus? Sirius?"

"I can't say," said Remus.

"Good man," said Sirius with a slight bow. The dramatic wanker.

Remus felt anger rising in him like bile as he stared into Sirus' unrepentant face. There he stood, full of himself, Sirius Sodding Black, once again having everything his way, bollocksing everything up for Remus – _interfering_ – like he always did, and not feeling a damned bit sorry about it. Remus thought about how Sirius had undoubtedly told Regulus about the Marauder's Map – Merlin only knew why – and now half his meager belongings were destroyed after Regulus – or someone – had broken into their bedchamber trying to find the map. He thought about his grandparents, dead now because of Fenrir Greyback and Death Eaters looking for maps, as well, and Merlin only knew what Regulus had had to do with _that_. He thought about how Sirius had tried to make him, Remus, a murderer, by sending Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack during the full moon …

Remus' knuckles were white around his wand. But he felt a strange calm inside him as he thought a wordless spell and watched it hurtle towards Sirius' chest.

Peter shrieked and James tried to jump in front of Sirius to protect him; but it was hardly necessary as Sirius dropped behind a sofa, which swelled to the size of a bloated hippopotamus when the spell landed. He quickly leapt up again to hurl a spell of his own back at Remus. It singed James' hair on its way across the room, but it missed its intended target.

"Stop it! What the hell – "

"Get out of the way, James," ordered Remus.

"Nice to see some stones after all," taunted Sirius, casting a _Protego_ to deflect another series of rapid hexes.

"Peter, get out from behind that chair and _help_ me!" shouted James.

Spells now flew between Remus and Sirius so quickly that James' and Peter's figures on either side were mere blurs in Remus' peripheral vision. Finally one of Remus' spells –even Remus wasn't sure which one, he'd fired them off so quickly – landed, rendering Sirius' right arm useless. Sirius dove to retrieve his wand and continued to hurl spells, now using his left hand. A returned hex hit Remus' left shoulder, and he felt the skin there sizzling. The pain was almost unbearable, but he couldn't stop now.

"You ignoramus," Sirius huffed. "You got yourself into this mess."

"And you've sewn it up rather neatly, don't you think?" shot back Remus. "Should I _thank_ you for that?"

"What the _fuck_?" shouted James, throwing up his hands. "Will someone _please_ tell me what the hell – "

But Remus ignored him and sent another spell across the room. Sirius, trying to dodge it, slipped on a small rug, falling backwards and catching his good elbow on the arm of a chair on the way down. He cursed loudly.

Remus leapt across the room and was standing over Sirius with his wand trained on him, not sure which body part he should hex next, when a powerful _Expelliarmus_ hit him from the side, disarming him and sending his body flying into the ashy stones in front of the hearth. His knee landed hard and he felt pain shoot upward into his thigh and hip.

"I'm sorry, Remus," said James, "but you're being a prick."

Remus retrieved his wand with a quiet _Accio_, stood up, and backed away, limping, pointing his wand and James and Peter. "Stay out of this," he said. "It's between me and Sirius."

He noticed other students now, attracted by the commotion, standing in their nightclothes in the stairwells. He didn't want to look and see if Lily was among the crowd. He just wanted to finish this, one way or another. He glowered at Sirius.

"You've – " He tried again to say _hexed me_, but of course the words wouldn't come. All he could say was, "Fix it."

"Me?" Sirius hauled himself to his feet. He could barely raise his left arm now, and it shook. "You're the one who's made a dog's breakfast of everything." And then, quietly: "_You_ fix it."

"I won't," said Remus. "You know I won't."

"Well, _I _certainly can't," replied Sirius. He looked almost hurt when he said it. But he raised his trembling arm and fired off a blast of fiery fuchsia and Remus barely had time to defend himself against it.

Another array of hexes and jinxes crisscrossed the room, setting furniture on fire and battering the fighters until they both were forced against opposite walls. James and Peter tried shooting their own spells to defuse the friends' duel, but they were met with forceful parries that disabled Peter and compelled James, holding his ribs, to take cover behind a smoking suit of armor.

Meanwhile, it appeared that the entire Gryffindor student body had now congregated in the corners of the Common Room, buzzing excitedly in their pajamas and dressing gowns. Remus couldn't spare a thought to wonder what they must be thinking, watching the four inseparable friends sweating and cursing and fighting like this.

A voice rent the air like the screech of a bird of prey. "_WHAT IS THIS?_"

The friends froze, wide-eyed, wands still pointed at each other. Remus glanced towards his right and didn't know which he found more frightening: McGonagall's thin-lipped fury, or her tatty tartan dressing gown. He knew it was never a good thing when a teacher was dragged from her bedchamber for any reason, and slowly he lowered his wand.

McGonagall put out the fires and turned towards the culprits. At first she simply stared at each of them in turn. "Explain yourselves," she said at last.

The four boys were silent, though Remus and Sirius, breathing heavily, continued to glower at each other.

McGonagall inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "Lupin, I'm particularly surprised at you – a _prefect_ fighting with other students. A fine example you're setting."

Remus felt his insides twist as if her words were knives.

"Tell me what happened."

He tucked his wand away and faced the professor. "Fight," he mumbled.

"Thank you, Lupin, but that much I could deduce from the evidence in front of me." Her gaze pierced him. "Why?"

He looked at Sirius. "I can't say."

"All right. Black?" she tried.

"Neither can I, professor." He sounded almost contrite.

"Potter? Pettigrew?"

The both muttered something inaudible. They'd stand together, the four of them, even if everything was ruined now, even if half of them didn't know why.

McGonagall sighed and turned on her heel, approaching the open portrait hole. "You're all injured. Come on, to the hospital wing with you. Then we'll talk about detention."

As Remus limped towards the portrait hole, he spotted Lily at the foot of the girls' stairwell, arms folded across her white nightgown. Her eyes questioned him, but he could only shake his head.

He had failed her.

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_**A/N: If anyone is still reading this fic, thank you for your patience; hopefully this chapter did not disappoint. We've just got a few more chapters to go, and I do hope you'll keep reading. In the meantime, reviewers, there are some Marauders who need tending in the hospital wing. Any takers? ;)**_


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